When Magic Finds Love
by Red Garden Gnome
Summary: A collection of short stories, all involving Charlie Weasley and Hermione Granger. Most of these stories were intended to be the start of a new, full-length story, yet did not come to fruition.
1. Cocoa Powder Footprints

A/N: This was a small plot bunny that I had to get out. Please leave a review and let me know if you enjoyed it!

* * *

Cocoa Powder Footprints

"Dad, why can't we just bake mum's cake using magic? It'll be much easier," his son asked with his hands on his hips, with a Hermione-like haughtiness about him.

The duo were in the home's kitchen, as Charlie read and re-read the instructions in a baking book he had unearthed in one of the cupboards below the sink, it propped up against a bowl that housed four eggs (though all of them remained intact) as well as a whisk. He scratched away at his chin absent-mindedly.

"Pete, your mother deserves more than me just waving my wand around to construct a cake," Charlie replied a little distractedly, as his eyes were still glued to the pages of the tome. "But I will say this, Grandma Granger's cook book is one confusing mess. I mean, what on earth is a mixer?"

Charlie ran his fingers through his short, fiery red hair in mild frustration, flipping forward several pages before going back some sheets, to see if it explained anywhere what exactly a mixer was.

Suddenly, one of the kitchen's beige, single-back chairs was shoved lightly against the counter Charlie was using as his baking station, as Peter climbed atop of it and said, "Let me see if I can help."

Charlie inwardly laughed at his son's early acceptance that they were going to do the things the 'Muggle way' by treating Hermione for her birthday.

Peter flipped through the pages that explained the cake-baking process, his eyes scrunched up in fierce concentration with his little head tilted to his right side ('He looks exactly like Hermione does when she's reading the _St. Mungo's Weekly Journal of Medicine_ ,' Charlie thought with amusement) while he scratched at this chin ('Hey, that's what I do!' Charlie mentally exclaimed).

"Dad, I'm pretty sure we need to crack the eggs first before we put them in the bowl," Peter said without looking at him, "then we need to add the butter, vanilla extract, sugar, and buttermilk according to the directions."

"Okay, chief, I'll put you in charge of the kitchen today! You just tell me what to do and I'll follow your rules."

A wide smile broke out over his son's face at being put in charge, for his son liked to bark out orders (in his five-year-old voice) while always pursuing directions precisely.

Peter then took command over what was needed and what needed to be done, as Charlie soon realized he was woefully unprepared for his son's rather cute, yet still authoritarian rule.

After several minutes, Charlie had patches of flour that bloomed across his cheeks while cocoa powder covered the tiled kitchen floor like a brown lake, Peter, in his instruction-adhering excitement, having knocked over its pouch. When this happened, Charlie quickly grabbed a handful of powder and threw it into the mixing bowl ('Dad, that's disgusting!' Peter protested), seeing that it was a key ingredient to the chocolate cake they were both trying to ready before Hermione came home.

Charlie then poured the cake batter in a round pan, using a large spoon to scrape in every last bit, and held up the utensil to Peter.

"Want to polish it off," he asked.

His son made a grab at it but Charlie pulled it back easily, out of his reach.

"What do you say, Pete?"

He huffed in a very Hermione-like way, as he said, "May I please lick the spoon?"

Charlie couldn't help himself at his son's words for he bent down, kissed his cheek, and surrendered over the batter-covered instrument.

"What's next buddy?"

"Uh, one sec," he paused, holding up one of his little fingers. Charlie looked over at him to see that he was still finishing off what had once coated the spoon, his eyes closed at its tastiness. "Done," he announced, licking his lips. "Um, next, you have to put the cake in the oven for thirty minutes." Peter's eyes suddenly bugled. "Thirty minutes! Dad, that's such a long time!"

"Don't worry, Pete, thirty minutes will fly by in no time," Charlie responded, pushing the pan into the scorching oven, feeling a heated air blast into his face when he opened its door. "In the meantime, we have got to clean up this mess. Your mum will have a fit if she sees this!"

"Well, can you clean it up with magic? It'll save us a lot of time, right?"

"Excuse me," Charlie began, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the counter, fighting down a smile that threatened to break out over him, "but who was it that spilt cocoa powder all over the floor?"

"Wasn't it you?" Charlie looked over at his son to see the corners of his mouth turn upward, as his own smile was in danger of being put on display.

"Pete, Pete, Pete," Charlie began, shaking his head back and forth, "trying to pin the crime on me, are you? You know what happens when you try and do that, don't you?"

Peter's eyes swelled like large saucers as Charlie crept closer to him, sliding along the counter. Peter then suddenly jumped off of his chair where he had issued out the cake-baking instructions, landed feet-first in the pile of cocoa powder, and ran from the kitchen, his arms swinging like small windmills, yelling, "No, not the tickle monster! No, not the tickle monster!"

Charlie had to stuff his first into his mouth to refrain from laughing loudly. He would wait for Pete to get a head-start (after all, he always went to the same place when hiding), before he would go hunting after him, letting the tickle monster to come out and play.

He then started off, mentally smacking himself in the head when his eyes fell upon a clear track of cocoa powder footprints.

'This is what I get for baking the Muggle way,' Charlie thought to himself glumly.

Shaking his head, thinking he'll clean it up later, Charlie made a point to noisily enter every room in the house, calling out with each door he opened, "Is Peter in this one, tickle monster?"

Finally, Charlie arrived inside he and Hermione's bedroom, and sure enough, there was a Peter-sized lump in the middle of their mattress, huddled under their bed sheets.

"How about this one, tickle monster," Charlie aimlessly asked, taking silent steps closer and closer to his bed, never taking his eyes off of the small bump, "do you think Pete is somewhere in here?"

Without another word, Charlie then quickly reached down and threw his comforter onto the floor, exposing his soon who was curled in a fetal position.

Understanding that his hiding position had now been compromised, Peter stood to his feet (cocoa powder pooling together atop the mattress under his weight), held up his arms, and yelled, "No, daddy!"

Charlie, however, paid no attention for he dived forward and tackled Peter playfully, running his fingers up and down Peter's side, making him squeal with heartfelt laughter, as he tried to squirm and wriggle free of his grasp.

"Daddy…I can't… _he he_ …it just… _ha ha_ …tickles!"

"This is the tickle monster, Peter, what did you expect," Charlie playfully reprimanded over his son's twittering.

"Okay, daddy, okay," Peter giggled loudly, tears of joy cascading down his cheeks.

Charlie then stilled, as he collapsed backwards against the pillows of his bed, his arms outstretched, acting as if he was exhausted.

Peter poked up his head and looked over at him and asked while still trying to catch his breath he lost while being tickled, "Are you…tired…daddy?"

"Keeping up with you makes me tired, kiddo. You're like one of the baby dragons on the reserve."

"What makes me different from those baby dragons," he questioned, crawling closer to Charlie.

"What makes you different," Charlie started, grabbing his son by his arms and hugging him against his chest, "is that you are completely mine, something that me and mommy created together," he finished, rocking him gently, while planting another kiss atop of his red hair that was combed off to the side.

"How did you create me?"

Charlie quirked up a brow as he racked his brain on how to answer his five-year-old son's question.

"Well, when two people love each very much, like your mum and I, they decide to settle down and start their very own family."

"I know that," Peter replied, stressing the word 'that,' "but how exactly did you create me?"

"You see, your mum and I sat down one day and drew a picture. The picture was of what we wanted our Pete to look like, with me so far?" When he felt Peter nod his head against his chest, he continued, "You were created when mommy slept with your drawing under her pillow with the full moon. The next morning, your picture disappeared and mum became pregnant with you!"

Peter turned his head to look up at Charlie and asked with pure innocence, "Was that really how I was created? What if you messed up my drawing?"

"Then we had to start all over," Charlie smiled down at his son.

"Did you have to start over?"

"No, Pete, you came out perfect our very first try."

"Hmpf," he then issued out, resuming his position of resting his head against Charlie's chest.

Their breathing fell in perfect sync with each other then as Charlie ran his fingers lightly over his son's hair. The pair fell silent, basking in the calmness that surrounded them. Charlie closed his eyes, wanting to cherish this moment so that it burned into his memory thus he could recall it back at any time in the future. This was a time that seemed too good to be true, something that Charlie didn't even know he wanted until he met and got to know Hermione.

He remembered their initial meeting after the war's conclusion, she gifting him a hug of comfort with Fred's passing. Her touch, while short and at the time strictly platonic, created a fluttering sensation within him, making his heart expand greatly and his head spin. Of course, he didn't think much of it at the time due to his grief but it was something he tended to recall every night he closed his eyes for sleep.

Charlie then felt himself slowly drift away, the clutches of unconsciousness beginning to drape over him, his mind sketching an image of Hermione, with her bushy hair, her deep, brown eyes, and beautifully-curled lips. How he wanted nothing more than for her to be lying against his side then to complete their small, little family of three.

Just as Charlie's head began to fall on its side, a timer in the kitchen screamed about, jostling him back to reality. He carefully yet quickly moved Peter off of him, resting his head against one of his bed's pillows, and dashed into the kitchen, silencing the alarm and taking the cake out of the oven.

'Looks like a cake should,' he told himself, 'Pete is good at giving orders.'

The front door of the home then creaked open as Hermione's voice accompanied it, yelling, "I'm home!"

Charlie departed from the kitchen with an easy grace (minding to step over the pile of cocoa powder that had not been cleared) as he met Hermione just as she was hanging her coat in the front closet.

"Hey, honey," Charlie said as Hermione turned to face him. He grabbed her waist with one arm and dipped her as if they were dancing the waltz, his other hand supporting the back of her neck. He then looked deep into her eyes before enfolding his lips over hers. The sensation of their kiss was incredible, seismic even, just as it had been their very first time.

Charlie slowly broke apart as he whispered down to her, "Happy birthday," making her smile widely.

* * *

After a rather delicious dinner, Charlie brought out an icing-covered cake (Charlie had used magic for this), as he and Peter sang an off-key rendition of 'Happy Birthday.' The chocolate treat was then devoured (mainly by the tag-team of father and son) while Hermione informed them of her day of work at St. Mungo's.

Peter was then told to wash up for bed while Charlie and Hermione tucked him in.

"Mommy, when's the next full moon?"

Hermione was curious over this as she sat down on Peter's mattress and answered, gently stroking her son's cheek, "I believe the next full moon is this Friday. Why do you want to know that honey?"

"Because I'm going to create a brand-new dragon! Daddy said that I was created when you slept with a picture you and him drew of me under your pillow with a full moon!"

Hermione shot a humorous look at Charlie who was sitting on Peter's other side as he smiled down at his son's words.

"Good night, sweetheart," Hermione stated, not having the heart to refute Charlie's earlier comment, as she bent down and planted a kiss on her son's forehead.

"Sleep well, Pete, and we'll see you in the morning, okay buddy?" Charlie then took his turn to learn forward and nuzzled his son's neck.

"'Night mum, 'night dad."

Upon closing the door to Peter's bedroom, Charlie led Hermione by the hand to the living area as she said, "So are you going to be the one to explain to him next Friday why his brand-new dragon didn't come into existence?"

"Babe, he asked me how he was created; the picture drawing was the first thing that popped into my head. Besides, this is Pete we're talking about. Come this Friday, he'll probably have forgotten about his new dragon creation anyway."

Hermione laughed quietly as they took a seat in a pile of cushions in front of the burning fireplace, the bright flames licking away at the logs piled at its base.

"The things that pop into your head Charlie is sometimes very, very odd."

"Odd," he repeated in a question-like format. "I find them rather inventive if I do say so myself!"

Hermione scoffed good-naturedly as she rested his head on his shoulder.

"I missed Pete today and I missed you as well. In fact, I miss you guys every Saturday I'm at work. I hate being away from you two," Hermione suddenly remarked.

Charlie waited a beat before he asked, "Would you like me to rectify your feelings?"

She turned to look up at him and inquired, "What do you mean?"

Without answering, he bent down and captured her lips with his. Over the better part of the next hour, Charlie and Hermione explored the avenues of each other's bodies they were already accustomed to yet could never seem to get enough of. Then, with the fire slowly dying in its grate next to the couple, they made sweet, passionate love to each other, Hermione gasping as she came while Charlie grunted in blissful satisfaction as he spilled inside of her, whispering her name in her ear all the while.

Lying atop of the cushions, still connected as one, Hermione said, "I love you, Charlie."

Charlie Weasley smiled down at her, stealing another kiss, and returned, "And I love you, Hermione."


	2. Ice Cream with Strangers

Ice Cream with Strangers

* * *

It was drizzling but he didn't care. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his jeans while his black t-shirt collected the tiny water specimens that fell from the sky. A black canvas was painted above him, void of the tiny diamonds that usually gathered when the sun sank below a far-off horizon. The air was chilly, for winter was approaching, yet he wasn't concerned with the changing of the seasons…not tonight, at least.

Light spilled out from partially-closed curtains of identical homes he passed by, flooding the street of their meandering glory, while swathing him in it each time he passed by one of the rogue windows. _Light…shadow…light…shadow…_

As a wind blew over him, scraping off a hive of leaves from a nearby tree, he ducked his head, bracing himself as the air around him dropped several degrees, before firing back up as the breeze passed on, nothing but a whisper with no meaning or validation.

Just after he rubbed his hands over his arms, which were now covered in goose-flesh, he ran into another body, both sounding off with matching, " _Ompfs_."

Not anticipating the contact, he was knocked a step rearwards, though his collision partner stumbled backwards, before twisting around and falling onto a neighboring lawn. Though her fall was in near silence, a dog started barking.

"Are you okay," he asked, walking forward and taking notice that he had run headlong into a girl.

"Yes, yes I'm fine," she replied, standing to her feet and brushing herself off.

The first thought that came to his mind when assessing this stranger was that she had a wild mane of bushy hair; it nearly cackled with electricity. Her face seemed somewhat familiar, though he ruled out the possibility of knowing her.

"Sorry about that," he then said, filling in the uncomfortable silence that had overtaken them.

"No, I-I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Neither was I."

When she looked up at him, a spark of acquaintance burned behind her brown irises, before being depleted.

"You look familiar," was what she said next.

A light smile hugged his features.

"I was thinking the same thing. Does the name Charlie ring any sort of bell?"

"Kind of but not really," she returned. "Is that your name?"

He nodded. "What's yours?"

"Hermione…Hermione Granger." She paused and then questioned, "Familiar?"

He pouted while shaking his head from side to side. "Not to my recollection."

"You don't live around here though." She didn't state this as a question but more of a fact.

"No, you're right, I don't. I don't live anywhere near here."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Taking a stroll."

"You couldn't have done that where you live? I don't mean to meddle…I'm just curious, is all."

"I could but I'm trying to get away from my family."

"You and me both," she voiced with a sigh.

"What's so bad about yours," he asked.

"Not something I feel like discussing right now. Yours?"

"More of the same," he replied, see-sawing his head. "You headed anywhere close by?"

"The market a couple of blocks away," she placed. "I'm in need of some ice cream."

"Ice cream" he repeated, his ears perking up at the frozen sweet.

She nodded.

"Care if I join?"

"No, not at all."

The two then began their walk back up the street as the light rain began to fade. The dog was still barking from somewhere behind them as Charlie heard its owner yell, _"Quiet Walsh, you ruddy canine! I said quiet!"_

He chuckled which drew the attention of his companion.

"Something funny?"

"No…not really."

"Then why are you laughing?"

"I didn't know it was a crime to."

"It isn't but I could use some humor tonight."

"That bad with your folks, huh? I mean, it is your parents, right?"

"Yeah," she responded. "There's nothing I can really do about it though; it's out of my hands."

"I have the opposite problem: everything is in my hands and my family is hounding me to do something with it."

"And what would that be," Hermione asked.

He wrestled with the idea of telling her his story, of why he was so far from home late at night, walking under a bout of disturbed weather with nothing but a shirt and jeans, yet, he decided to instead say, "Life in general."

"That's quite broad," she commented. "Care to narrow it down?"

"Only if you tell me what's going on with you."

She laughed. "We hardly know each other, now you want to know what's keeping me up at night?"

"Sounds about right," he said, placing his hands back in his pockets.

She let out a heavy breath and stated, "I just found out that my dad is expecting a daughter with the woman he had an affair with a couple of months back. Your turn."

"Hang on a sec," Charlie uttered. "What?"

"Don't make me repeat it again," she nearly groaned.

"No, no, I just mean…wow, that's messed up."

She didn't respond but kept quiet.

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong…my dad did."

Charlie chanced a look over and saw that Hermione had a depressed look etched within her features, while her shoulders folded forward.

"Well, my family is looking for me to get married," he told her.

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"They don't account for the fact that not even half a year ago, my then-fiancé ran off with my best mate."

"Oh…never mind, then."

Turning a corner under a lamp post, he went on, "It's just that my family, mainly my mum, never stops. Every conversation she ropes me into always runs back to me getting married, popping out a few kids with some bird, and living happily ever after."

"It sounds like she wants you to be happy."

"Except that's not my definition of being happy."

"You don't want to get married?"

"After what happened, I'm having second thoughts on the whole charade. Even then, having kids is not something I'm interested in. I dream of them to be more of a nuisance than anything else."

"Try telling that to my dad," she said dryly.

"He's happy, is he?"

"He tried to hide it when he broke the news to us after dinner but I can tell he's thrilled."

"You know what, then screw him," Charlie directed.

Hermione whipped her head over at him and said incredulously, "I can't do that, he's my father!"

"You mean the guy who went behind you and your mum's back, cheated, and impregnated another woman? Dad or not, why would you defend someone like him?"

She fell quiet before she said in a near whisper, "I would say that it's because I love him but even that feeling has been…compromised. I don't think there's any excuse for what he did. This whole time I thought he and my mum were fine, happily married, completely in love, but turns out I was wrong."

"Do you know what's going to happen with him now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like is he going to move out or stay in or-,"

"I'm not sure; I walked out before that conversation began."

He nodded in understanding, feeling the hurt Hermione's mum was no doubt surrendering to.

After a hush raced over them, Hermione said, "Do you have any siblings?"

"Yes," he answered, wondering which avenue she was taking with this.

"Are any of them married?"

"Why d'you want to know?"

"It seems like your mum is incessant with you tying the knot. It would make sense if none of your brothers or sisters have married that she's haggling all of you to do so."

"Oh, um, my old brother did but that's it so far."

"So far?"

"Yeah, my younger sister is engaged."

"That's funny. My best friend is engaged, too." After a pause, "Maybe your mum likes the one, big happy family persona."

"No doubt about that," Charlie snorted. "Being the second-oldest though, my mum's put a lot of pressure for me to find someone and settle down."

"Did your family know about what happened with your fiancé?"

"Well, ex-fiancé, but they didn't even know I was engaged."

"What? How come?"

He shrugged. "My mum likes to plan weddings and she likes to plan them big. I just didn't want to deal with it. It's all a hassle, yet she thinks she's some matrimonial savior."

"You do realize that you are going to have to entertain her when you do find the right person to get married to, don't you?"

"Says who?"

"Are you insinuating that you're going to elope?"

"Your words, not mine," he jested.

She scoffed.

"Besides, right now, I can't say that I'm looking for anybody. Now's just not the time."

After turning another corner, Hermione pointed her finger to their destination, as Charlie spotted a small, brick store, nestled within a corner lot.

Charlie opened the door for Hermione to step through first ( _"Thanks"_ was her answer to his chivalrous gesture), as she led him through a lone aisle, as he saw that they were the only customers in the store.

Behind a smokescreen of glass, small tubs of ice cream sat, staring out at the faces that pressed in on their front barricade of defense, like lines of soldiers at attention.

"What's your favorite flavor," Charlie asked.

"I don't discriminate against ice cream," she returned rather playfully, making him smirk, "but if I had to choose, it would be vanilla."

"Really, vanilla?"

"Yes, why," she said, arching a brow at him.

"I dunno…it's just so…plain."

"Then what's your favorite?"

"Mint chocolate chip," he answered without hesitation.

He watched in confusion, added in with a hint of merriment, as Hermione opened one of the cooler doors and took down a small container of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

"What're you doing," he inquired.

"Buying some ice cream," she said simply.

"But I thought you liked vanilla?"

"That's my favorite flavor but I told you that I don't discriminate against ice cream."

"So you're going to buy my favorite flavor?"

"Did you not want any?"

"I don't have any money," he said lowly, feeling the tips of his ears burn.

"Don't worry about it, I'll pay."

"But that's not fair to you."

"How so?"

He stared blankly at her, before he started, "Well you-but I-I'm not…fine," he admitted defeat. "But I still don't feel comfortable about this."

"Oh, honestly, it's just some ice cream," she laughed, walking up to the front counter.

The clerk rang up the price before Hermione gave him the necessary monies.

"You want bag," he asked in a thick accent.

"No, just two spoons please," Hermione responded.

He handed them over along with several napkins.

"Thanks," she said as she and Charlie exited the market. "Let's sit over there," she suggested, nodding to a low, stone wall across the way.

"So Hermione," Charlie began, after he opened the tub of ice cream and let her take the first scoop, "what are you, exactly?" With her puzzled look, he clarified, "Like are you a student, or do you work or-,"

"I finished my education already. I actually work in a bookstore."

"Really? Around here?"

"Central London."

"Did you go to university?"

She shook her head, "No."

"How do you like your work, then?"

"Well, I always loved books, ever since I was a little girl. It's kind of like a dream that I'm working surrounded by all kinds of them now. Of course, my parents feel a bit different about the matter."

"Meaning?"

"They just feel that I should be doing something more…I don't know, important, I guess is the word I'm looking for? Working in a bookshop, they feel, is a waste of my potential."

"How do you feel about it though?"

She smiled. "I love every second of it. Yeah, maybe it's not what they had in mind for me as a career, and truthfully, I never thought of it myself, but it just happened."

"I'm guessing you still live with your mum and dad?"

"I actually don't."

"Oh?"

"The bookstore I work at has a small flat above it and that's where I live."

"Sounds quaint."

"It is," she nodded, as Charlie helped himself to some ice cream, savoring in its green richness. "It has just enough space for me and my cat."

"Your cat?"

"Yeah, his name is Crookshanks."

"Funny little name," Charlie grinned. "What about any suitors?"

"Oh, definitely not," she said.

"And why's that?"

"I just got out of a relationship that didn't end well at all."

"What happened?"

She turned to look at him. "Is this an interview?"

"If you want it to be," he retorted plainly. "I mean, I don't share my tub of ice cream with complete strangers, you know?"

"Your tub of ice cream," she parroted. "Yes, the one you purchased with your money, is that right?"

Charlie was thankful for the shadows they snacked in for he felt his neck grow rather hot.

"I would've paid if I had some," he murmured with an ill-temper. "I just didn't expect to go shopping at ten at night."

Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"My ex-boyfriend didn't like the fact that I wasn't intimate with him," she answered, her gaze traversing across the motorway. "What do you make of that?"

He thought for a full minute before answering, "From a bloke's point of view, we have…desires to put it plainly, and well, yeah," he finished lamely, making her laugh.

"That was quite informative."

"Everyone's different. I mean, how long were you dating this guy?"

"A year-and-a-half, but we've known each other since we were eleven."

Though Charlie didn't voice this aloud, he deliberated any bird that wasn't intimate with him within a year-and-a-half wasn't much worth keeping.

"It sounds bad, I know," she continued, "but there was no attraction with him."

 _That certainly changes things_ , he inwardly thought.

"If you weren't attracted to him, then why did you stay with him as long as you did?"

"It's complicated."

"Try me."

She again looked back over at him, the tub of ice cream situated between them. A cool breeze swam over them, jingling neighboring tree branches together, as if courting on a nighttime musical melody.

After a car passed by, its headlights acting like light beams, scattering the blackness out of a crypt, she explained, "I felt like it was a moral obligation to stay with him, even though I thought we were better off as friends. And beyond that, everyone that knew us kind of expected us to get together and stay together; to get married and live the happily ever after. Does that make sense?"

"A bit, but since I don't know this fellow, nor your relationship with him, I can't make a fair assessment."

Hermione sighed, spooning out another mouthful of ice cream.

"How did he take it when you cut things off?"

"Not well. He actually claimed that I was cheating on him because of my lack of intimate endeavors."

Charlie scratched the side of his head while going on, "Did you ever explain to him that you weren't attracted?"

"I thought about it, but in the end, I couldn't. It sounds so cruel, you know?"

"Well, it's not how the world views him, it's just how you do."

"I know but there are certain things you tell people, and there other things you just don't."

"I guess that's fair," Charlie contemplated.

"I mean, it's not his fault or anything. But things between us are a bit strained and now our friends are caught in the middle."

"Maybe everything'll sort itself out over time."

"Perhaps but nothing's really changed since we broke things off in August."

"You ever hear of the saying, 'Time heals all wounds'?"

She nodded.

"Take that then as your guide. I'm using it as my own right now."

"With your ex-fiancé?"

Charlie took his turn to nod his head.

"We'll see how everything turns out," Hermione said. Then after a moment, "You know, I-I should probably be heading back home. I have to see how my mum's coping."

"Yeah, yeah, no doubt," Charlie agreed, though for a reason he couldn't pinpoint, he actually didn't want her to go.

"It was nice meeting you, Charlie," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "And by the way, you can keep the ice cream."

"What? No way! You paid for it, you keep it."

She shook her head from side to side. "You look like you could use it more than me."

"I'm not sure about that, considering what you told me about your dad."

"I'll pull through."

"And you think I won't?"

"I'm sure you will…after you had your fill of mint chocolate chip ice cream."

He scoffed but turned up to smile at her anyway.

As she began to walk away, Charlie called out before he could stop himself, "Um, Hermione?"

She turned around, "Yeah?"

"Are you going back to work tomorrow?"

"No, we're closed on the weekends."

"You think, maybe, you'd like to do lunch? You know, go somewhere to eat," he stammered, while his heart beat madly against his chest; unbeknownst to him, he was gripping his spoon rather tightly, his knuckles turning pearly white.

"That sounds good," she returned, making Charlie let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding in. "What time?"

"You wanna meet me here around noon?"

She grinned and replied, "Lunch tomorrow at noon. I'll see you then."

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and began down the pavement towards her home. Charlie watched her go with a smile, feeling her calming presence she possessed about her slowly ebb in small waves as she crept farther and farther away from him. Standing to his feet, he finished up the ice cream and tossed the empty carton in a nearby dustbin.

Licking his lips, he apparated away with a small _pop_ , causing a dog to bark aloud. _"Ringer, you damned clogger! Shut up!"_ What Ringer, the Staffordshire bull terrier, noticed that his owner did not, was that it had started to rain again.


	3. When Rats Dance with Poison

**A/N** : This was meant to be the prologue of a much longer story but alas, it sadly didn't make it. I have three completed chapters for following this tidbit. I might release them for reading's pleasure. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **When Rats Dance with Poison**

 _December 2000_

 _"Fourth Witch Steps Forward as Harry Potter's Mistress; Wizard Wunderkind Scandal Grows!"_ screamed the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ , a title which had Mrs. Weasley gather Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Charlie all to the Burrow that fateful afternoon.

They were all silent as the Weasley matriarch scanned the story, her fifth time doing so, while birds chirped to each just outside the kitchen window, calling to their loved fellows, unperturbed by the raw tension emanating from inside the home.

Hermione looked across the table at Ginny, sitting by her husband's side, while Ron's gaze was cast downward in a bout of sorrow. She was seated next to Charlie, though he only had eyes for his mother at that time, noticing that she was trying her best to reign in her lofty temper.

"I want to make this quite plain," Mrs. Weasley stated in a forced calm, setting down the paper, leaving it to rest so that Harry's beguiled face stared up at them. "We're going to start from the beginning, as far as we can possibly go, to see how things ended up the way they did and why we are all here." After a brief pause as she assessed her fellow companions, she asked in a low whisper, which came out more as a hiss, "Who wants to start?"

No one moved, for it seemed as if the table's occupants had morphed in stone gargoyles, waiting for another to head the charge. The volume of the silence was rising every second a word wasn't spoken, as Hermione felt her skin prickle over. She did, after all, blame herself for the family's misfortunes, yet she did harbor quite a bit of resilience for the man sitting across from her too.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley tried again, while her hands balled into fists. "Not one of you is leaving this table until everything comes out in the open."

"Mum, you don't seriously believe this, do you," Ginny suddenly exclaimed, gesturing down to the paper before them.

"After what I've learned recently about members of my family, I can't be sure what I believe anymore," she responded tersely.

"But this article was written by that filthy Skeeter woman!"

Mrs. Weasley stared down her daughter. "Yes, she also penned the stories of the first witch, the second witch, and the third witch that came forward in regards to Harry's supposed extramarital affairs."

"Except you can't prove that they're true! Besides, this is Harry we're talking about, mum," Ginny responded with a fire burning behind her eyes as she tightly grabbed hold of his arm. "Think about all he's done for us! He wouldn't do anything like this!"

Mrs. Weasley glanced over at Harry, who, for his part, held her gaze.

"I would like to believe that Ginny, I really would, but unfortunate as it is, one of Rita Skeeter's earlier articles about another at this table happened to be true."

With this, everyone turned to look at Hermione. She burned under their stares, feeling as if she was drowning under the weight of what was left unspoken with Mrs. Weasley's words.

"As it is, we need everyone to come clean as to what has been happening over the past several months and why these events transpired in the first place."

"That isn't going to get us anywhere," Charlie muttered lowly while he blinked down at the table, his voice carrying around the room.

"What did you say," his mum questioned, glaring over at her second-oldest son.

He looked up at her and said, "I dunno what you're hoping for with this little meeting of yours, but all you're going to do is have us point fingers and blame one another. We'll just be running in circles."

"Someone has to take responsibility, Charlie! Of all, I'm most surprised at you and your actions!" As he tensed, she said, "Your own brother, for heaven's sake!"

"Ron isn't completely innocent, mum, and you would know that if you weren't completely biased in where you take your news from," Ginny inserted, her voice rising with every word.

"You will not speak to me like that, Ginevra, especially not when your husband has been accused of having several affairs without your knowledge!"

"My husband's name is Harry, mum, someone you called a son just a couple of months ago at our wedding!"

"That was before I knew of his secret meanderings he kept hidden on the side! I mean, have we been so blind as to understand how much traveling he's been doing for his line of work, crisscrossing all over the continent?"

As Ginny opened her mouth to retaliate, Harry cut in, "Mrs. Weasley, please, I would never, ever think about cheating on Ginny. These women that have come forth are lying; I've never heard or met any of them before." He sighed, "All of this isn't new to Rita Skeeter. This is what she's good at. Publishing tales of defamation for the sole purpose of making a hard-sell. But none of it is accurate."

"So am I to suppose that her story about Hermione was also false? Even when Hermione already admitted to me that it was true?"

Harry glanced over at his best friend, his face crumbling into hopelessness.

"You're right, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione finally breathed out, "about me, at least. I messed up."

"Hermione-," Charlie began but she shook her head at him.

"I made mistakes, a lot of mistakes, and I acted upon pure instinct without thinking about the consequences that would come later."

"But dear, that is so unlike you," Mrs. Weasley nearly pleaded, hoping upon hope that perhaps these past couple of months have been nothing but a horrid nightmare.

"I know it's not like me to not think everything out in advance but for once in my life I wanted to feel carefree. Back at school, I burdened myself in making sure I was at the top of my year, while also looking after Harry whenever he'd run into danger in facing Voldemort and his Death Eaters. I was so uptight that I know I was hard to be around sometimes. Then after the war, I wanted to live a life that would make me happy, that I could enjoy on my own time and not be weighed down by this 'war hero' nonsense."

She continued to glue her eyes onto Mrs. Weasley, unwavering, as she finished, "Everything might not have happened as you would have wanted but it just did. I think it'd be best to accept that and try to move on."

"Move on," Ron abruptly yelled, slamming his first upon the table. "How could you possibly say something like that?! Don't you understand how messed up everything is now?"

"You want to settle down, Ron," Charlie warned, glowering over at this brother.

Ron ignored him.

"Hermione, I know I made mistakes. I'm not perfect but I'm trying to save what we have."

"Had," she corrected.

Ron's brows furrowed together as he asked, "What?"

She looked over at him. "I said had. It's what we had, Ron, not what we have. I told you before that it's over between us. Why can't you understand that?"

"Because I still love you, that's bloody why," he shouted, standing to his feet. As his shoulders heaved up and down to an unsteady rhythm, he asked, "Do you really think that Charlie, my traitor of a brother, can make you happy? Do you have any idea, at all, what he's like?"

"Why don't you tell her then," Charlie said, getting up as well. "Why don't you tell all of us how I really am? Please, I'd be delighted to hear what you have to say."

"You're a womanizer is what you are, and don't even try to deny it," Ron shouted, pointing a finger over at his own kin. "You play women left and right. I've heard some of your one-night escapades that you share with Bill…it's bloody disgusting."

Charlie seemed unfazed as he returned evenly, "You claim that I play women left and right…Ron, you're such a fool." He scoffed. "Have you blocked from your mind what you did to Hermione? What you did to sabotage your own relationship with her?"

"I'd say I didn't have much of a chance, did I, not after you two chummed over lunch a couple of months back," he declared savagely. "But I guess I shouldn't be too surprised, not after I distinctly remember you telling Bill how you stole the fiancé of one of your best mates back in Romania!"

"Ron, it wasn't like that," Hermione said.

"You stay out of it," he roared, though the instant the words left him, he looked as if he regretted it.

"Hey, don't talk to her like that," Ginny screamed, copying her brothers and rising to her own feet.

Ron continued to look over at Hermione, looking wounded for lashing out at her.

"I-I'm sor-,"

"What? You're sorry," Charlie concluded for him. He let out a bitter laugh. "I wonder how many times you've apologized to her. I mean, how long is she going to have to pay for your mistakes?"

Ron reared his head over at this brother and replied, "You should know, you despicable-,"

"ENOUGH!" Mrs. Weasley thundered from the head of the table, causing Ron to cease mid-speech. "Charlie, Ron, Ginny, all of you sit down right now," she snapped vehemently. After they did so, she continued in a calmer tone, "Now, I've invited someone over who I think can help us with our debacle."

A swift knock upon the kitchen door made her stop.

"And I assume," she commented, standing to her feet and walking over, "that this is who I am talking about."

Upon the door's opening, Hermione gasped aloud, while she heard Ginny curse. Mrs. Weasley stepped aside to reveal a set of blonde hair styled under sophisticated curls, jeweled spectacles dotted with a dozen rhinestones, and a heavy-set jaw locked under a powdered face. It was Rita Skeeter.

"All here, are you," she smiled, showing her heavy set of jaws while three of her teeth twinkled gold. "Excellent!" Her eyes scanned those seated at the table hungrily, coming to the understanding that young blood reeked of sensationalism. Her gaze settled upon Hermione, before flitting over to Harry, until they rested back on Hermione. "Shall we start with those of non-blood relation?" Without waiting for answer, she uttered, "Lovely!"


	4. Whispers from the Ministry

**A/N** : So I decided to post the three chapters I had for this story just for the pleasure of those who wish to read it. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **When Rats Dance with Poison**

Chapter 1: Whispers from the Ministry

 _December 1999_

Hermione closed her book as she got to her feet and stepped away from the table, stealing another sip of water as she did so. Tucking the chair in, she headed for the back of the tavern only to be stopped by Charlie Weasley.

Taking notice of her, he came to a standstill, glanced over and commented, "You look familiar."

She tucked her chin and laughed.

"As do you," she responded a moment later.

He was quiet for a beat, assessing her. He then sighed, "You have to help me out here."

"Hermione…my name's Hermione Granger."

"Right, right," he nodded. "I knew it was something different like that. I'm Charlie, by the way, Charlie Weasley."

"I know who you are," she replied lightly. "I'm good friends with your family."

"Hang on a minute…aren't you married," he questioned, cocking his head to one side.

"Um, no, net yet at least. But I am engaged to your youngest brother, Ron."

"Oh…yeah, yeah I remember that now. It's coming up, isn't it, your wedding?"

"In March. We figured that your mum would want some time separated between ours and Harry and Ginny's."

"Harry? Who's that?"

"Remember? Ginny's fiancé," she answered.

Hermione saw a dim light flash behind Charlie's bright, blue eyes as he said, "Hmm, doesn't really ring a bell for me. Have I met him before?"

"On a number of occasions, I believe. He's around the Burrow a lot."

"Maybe I'll see him when I get home tonight then."

As she nodded her head in understanding, Charlie asked, "You headed out?"

"Yeah, I have to get back to the store."

"You work in that bookshop down the alley, right? I can't remember its name."

"Flourish and Blotts," Hermione filled in. "That's where I am."

"But you didn't eat anything," he reasoned.

"And how would you know that?"

He scoffed good-naturedly. "I'm the short-order cook around here. Whenever anyone orders food, I'm the one that prepares it. And I haven't received any orders in the past hour."

"Well, you know, I'm not very hungry anyway."

"So you're going to go back to work on an empty stomach?"

"I had a glass of water."

"So I'll repeat: You're going to go back to work on an empty stomach?"

She huffed, "I don't have time to order anything right now."

"You don't have to," he shrugged, before he gestured down to the plate he was holding in his hands. "You can share with me. I made a bang-up Shepherd's Pie, fresh out of the oven."

Hermione stared down at the food, her stomach grumbling at the sight of it, though she declined, "Oh, no, I couldn't eat your lunch."

"You're not, I said we'd share. Now c'mon, you're wasting time," he stated, as he weaved through the empty tables of the Leaky Cauldron, settling into one tucked against a lone wall. She followed in his wake.

After Hermione sat down, he handed her a fork and instructed, "Don't be afraid to dig in."

"Thanks," she smirked, before taking a large helping and stuffing it in her mouth. She then hummed in satisfaction, savoring the deliciousness of the meat pie, taking her by surprise in how good it tasted.

"So, then, what's the verdict," Charlie questioned.

"This is amazing," she returned, taking another forkful.

"Amazing," he parroted. "That's quite a compliment."

"Well, it's the truth. Have you cooked this before?"

"Several times," he answered. "But it's not a popular ticket item around here," bobbing his head left and right as if assessing why it wasn't so.

"Everyone has different tastes," she said.

"I know but it's such a classic, don't you think?"

"I'm not sure if I would call it a classic but a staple food item is more acceptable, I think."

"Say, you sell any cookbooks in that shop of yours?"

"We sell all types," Hermione said, taking another large bite. "Why?"

"Tom, the barman, wants me to introduce new selections and all, talking about invigorating some life back in the Leaky Cauldron. It's been somewhat of a sore spot for a while now, and he can't figure out why. He's guessing that his pub is more old-school but witches and wizards now want something new and fresh."

"There are quite a few books that'll help you with that," Hermione said, thinking of three different tomes off the top of her head. "Just stop by whenever you need them."

"Thanks," he smiled, a look that she found to be rather charming.

"So, Charlie, how've you been recently?"

"Fine, I guess, you know just working and all. Nothing too exciting is happening right now."

"Well, that's good. And what about your memories?"

He shrugged. "I remember some of my life back in Romania, up until I was attacked that is. Everything before then…they come and go."

"And what did your healer say? Ginny told me you had an appointment the other day."

Charlie gave her an odd look before replying, "Well he said it's a natural process and that my memories will come back in due time. It's something that can't be rushed." He then changed gears as he inquired, "You, um, you asked about me?"

"Yeah, I'm just concerned is all."

He chuckled softly. "You don't have anything to worry about. In the end, I'm sure everything will be fine."

"Your mum's been worried about you."

"What else is new," he rolled his eyes.

"It's natural that she is and it shows she's a good mother."

"Yeah but she still treats me like a small child, telling me to come back before it gets dark out and checking in on me during the night. She thinks I don't notice these things but I do."

Hermione chuckled at his frustration, as for some reason she couldn't explain, she found it to be endearing.

"Charlie, you did get attacked by a dragon over in Romania and from what your family was told it was pretty serious. She's just making sure that you're okay."

"She shouldn't get used to it though. Once my year is up, I'm headed right back over there."

"Your year," Hermione repeated. "What do you mean?"

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chest absent-mindedly as he did so, and explained, "The reserve I work for gave me a full year off from my job in order for me to heal and regain my memories. The healing part was pretty quick. It's just my memory that's taking a bit longer."

"You'll get there, Charlie," Hermione assured. "I know you will. It's like your healer said: It's a natural process."

He grinned over at her and then nodded his head.

A comfortable silence then fell over the two as they partook in making the Shepherd's Pie before them disappear into nothingness. It was at this time that Hermione's eyes skirted across the table to take in Charlie's appearance, something she had completely ignored initially: He was wearing a grey apron over his white t-shirt, the former covered in grease marks and splashes of gravy. A heavy dose of freckles danced over his neck, falling short of his clean-shaven face, leaving it untouched. A blank, Muggle ball cap, worn backwards on his head, completed his attire.

"Something on your mind," he suddenly voiced over innocently. Apparently he had noticed her staring over at him.

She mentally blushed and said, "You just look so casual." After he arched an eyebrow, she clarified, "I mean that you look comfortable with what you're wearing."

He looked down at himself and replied, "It sure isn't anything fancy but kind of normal when working in the kitchens." Glancing over at her, he stated, "You look quite comfortable yourself."

"I'm just wearing a blouse and a pair of jeans."

"So you see my point then?"

Hermione jeered lightly, "Oh very funny, Charles."

"Charles," he wrinkled his nose as if coming upon a foul smell.

"Not to your liking?"

"Not at all," he shook his head back and forth. "That's like me calling you Hermione."

"And what's wrong with that? That is my name, after all."

"You're telling me that you haven't got any nicknames or something?"

"Like what?"

"Dunno…maybe ''Mione' or the like?"

"'Mione," she repeated, this time crinkling her own nose. "That sounds awful!"

"I don't think so. It's just a shortened version, is all."

"I don't like it," she protested.

"I do," Charlie defended. "What would you do if I called you that from now on?"

"I'd refer to you as Charles then," she retorted.

"Oh, wonderful," he said derisively.

Hermione grinned before she said, "Anyway, are you excited for tomorrow?"

Charlie looked over at her and asked, "What's tomorrow?"

"Your birthday!"

"Oh, right, right, yeah mum mentioned something about that this morning."

"She's having a small get-together at the Burrow for dinner," Hermione reminded him.

"Are you coming," he questioned over at her.

"I'll be there," she acknowledged. "After all, it isn't everyday that you turn twenty-seven, is it?"

"That's the age I'll be turning," he asked in a surprised tone. When Hermione nodded, he sighed, "I didn't think I was that old."

"Twenty-seven is not old," Hermione countered.

"It's only three years away from thirty."

"And it's also only three years away from twenty-four. Do you consider twenty-four old?"

"No because it's not twenty-seven." As Hermione rolled her eyes again, he queried, "Is that how old you are, twenty-four?"

"No, I turned twenty back in September."

"Oh, well happy-late birthday then!"

"It's only been three months but thanks," Hermione smiled.

"So, twenty-years-old, huh? Do you live with your parents still?"

"No, I live in a one-bedroom above the bookshop," she answered. "It's small but cozy. I like it a lot."

"What about your mum and dad? They around London?"

"They live in West Wickham."

"Where's that?"

"In Bromley. It's the southeast part of the city."

He nodded his head in understanding, taking another bite of his lunch.

"I'm not from around here…well, who am I kidding, you probably already know that."

"I do," she told him. "I've stayed at the Burrow a lot during the summer while I was still at school."

"Did you ever get tired of the no-privacy policy over there?"

Her shoulders shook with laugher as she replied, "Actually, I didn't find that to be too much of an issue."

"Really," he expressed in wonderment, his eyes growing wide. "And why might that be? Is there some secret hideaway that you found out about that no one else knows of?"

"No, it's just that I come from a small family where it's just me and my parents. Even though they have a pretty small house, it feels empty a lot of the time."

"That sounds like a dream," Charlie confessed.

"Maybe to you but growing up, everything felt a bit…I don't know, cold?"

"Why did it feel like that?"

Hermione shrugged. "My parents had me when they were quite young. They even called me their accidental miracle," she laughed, making Charlie follow suit. "But because of their age, they had to put a lot of time into their dental practice and in doing so, never got to spend a lot of time with me, especially after I started going to Hogwarts."

As she said this, Hermione felt her insides turn to ice, creating slippery slopes of which she was sure to fall off of, making her face the demons that waited for her below.

Taking in her sudden silence, Charlie asked cautiously, "What is it?"

She let out a short breath. "Nothing, it's nothing," she said, refusing to divulge what mysteries the chambers of her heart kept hidden for she was unable to come to terms with incidents of her past that still haunted her inner being.

"Look, Hermione, whatever it is, I'm sorry," he offered sincerely.

"Don't worry about it," she swallowed, trying to plaster a fake smile onto her face yet failing miserably in doing so. "Let's just forget it."

A heavy and awkward silence ensued, punctuated only by the scrapes of their respective forks against the dish harboring what was left of their lunch.

Hermione remained quiet, feeling rather uncomfortable at the gentle probing she felt her past was beginning to undo, making her skin prickle all over. There were secrets she kept mummified as the horrors of what they entailed were too great for her to face even though her dad was a living reflection of it.

"So, um," Charlie coughed, trying to fill in the uncomfortable stillness that labored over them, "why don't you tell me about you and my brother?"

"Ron, you mean?" When he nodded, she asked, "What do you want to know?"

"About how you two got together. He's never said anything about it from what I can remember, only that it happened last year or so."

"Well," she thought, "Ron and I started off on the wrong foot, so to speak. He found me to be a nightmare and a bossy little know-it-all."

"And what did you think of him?"

"I found him to be lazy and rude," she answered, making Charlie grin. "Honestly, he never took his schoolwork seriously and he would rather talk about Quidditch more than anything else."

At the mention of the famed wizarding sport, Charlie perked up a bit and questioned, "Hang on a sec, what's wrong with Quidditch?"

"Nothing just as long as it doesn't interfere with your schoolwork, like it did for him and Harry a lot of the time."

"Do you like playing Quidditch?"

"No, I hate flying in general," she dismissed off-handedly.

"You what?!"

She looked over at him and repeated simply, "I hate flying."

"How could you possibly hate flying? I've never heard of such a thing!"

"I just find it a bit daunting," she shrugged.

Charlie pouted before he suggested, "I could take you flying if you want."

Hermione paused before responding, "Oh, that won't be necessary. I told you, I find it frightening."

"Then what better what to get over your fears than to actually face them?"

"I appreciate the offer but I'm happy enough as it is with my feet planted firmly on the ground."

Charlie sighed heavily and shook his head in mock exasperation before he said, "If you change your mind, just let me know. Anyway, how did you and my brother finally become friends?"

"He and Harry saved me from a troll that had been set loose inside Hogwarts on Halloween night of first year," she told him, making his eyes bulge. "Our relationship started afterwards really and we officially got together as a couple after the war."

"That's quite a tale," he gathered.

"More or less so but that's how it went."

"Well, whether it's more or less, he seems to be really happy…you both do."

"We are," she agreed.

He dipped his head and let another bout of silence come forth. However, he broke it a moment later by asking, "This has nothing to do with you or Ron, you know, but I was wondering if you could help me with something I can't really remember."

"Sure, what is it?"

"Do you know what type of dragon it was that attacked me back in Romania?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," was his reply. "Was it a Chinese Fireball?"

Hermione nearly laughed at his presumption, as he looked like a four-year-old boy on Christmas morning, waiting on edge to dive into a pile of presents that awaited him.

"Um, no, I think it was a Romanian Longhorn."

"You think," he echoed with an arched brow. "Wait a minute, are you undergoing a memory lapse as well?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and inquired, "Is that your attempt at humor?"

"Sarcasm, really," he responded with a shy smile. "It failed, didn't it?"

"Let's just say that your cooking is better," she returned, making him bark out a healthy dose of laughter.

"Seems so. You and I finished off the Shepherd's Pie," he exclaimed humorously.

"It was really good," she stated. Charlie didn't respond. Instead, he gazed across the table at her with an amused expression etched within his facial features. Hermione, feeling an odd, unexplainable heat under his steely blues, said, "You know, I should probably get back to work now."

These words seemed to break whatever trance that had built between them, for he concurred, "Right, right, of course."

The pair stood to their feet as Hermione expressed, "Thanks for lunch, Charlie."

"It was no problem," he shrugged. "You know that you're free to stop by whenever you want, right?"

"I know," she nodded.

"So I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

Hermione grinned, "Tomorrow."

* * *

While her body was at work, her mind kept drifting back to her lunch conversation with Charlie. Never before did she have such a lengthy chat with him, as most of his time since being back has been occupied by that of his family. Yet she found that she quite liked conversing with him.

There was a sense of maturity he maintained that she was fond of, while she also appreciated the small doses of humor that he was able to layer within his words. Moreover, Charlie anchored a rather carefree attitude, more so than she expected, and it surprised her that she didn't at all mind to navigate across more of those uncharted territories for she was known to be more of an uptight and controlled persona.

The rest of her workday passed in an even flow, as several customers waded inside the bookstore, sailing in between the shelves that towered towards the ceiling as Hermione quietly drummed her fingers against the front desk she was situated behind, lost in her thoughts.

Nightfall came quickly afterwards, as the front window of Flourish and Blotts was tainted by a multitude of fairy lights emitting from a Christmas tree that had been erected in front of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor across the way.

Quiet babbling could be heard outside from witches and wizards who were wandering about as Hermione waved her wand towards the entrance, making the lock _click_ in place. She then moved out from behind the front counter and walked towards the back of the store, climbing a spiral staircase that was folded away in one corner.

At the top of the landing, she pushed open the front door of her flat just as her fireplace burst to life in emerald green flames. She didn't think to pause as she knew that it was of a normal routine for her fiancé to visit her every day after work.

"Sorry I'm late," Ron voiced as a greeting, his mouth set in a grim line as the two met in front of the still-burning grate with a hug. He followed through with a quick peck to her lips.

"What's wrong, Ron," she questioned, noticing his stressed appearance as a small scent of vanilla infiltrated her nostrils. "Did something happen?"

"No but this training is bloody difficult," he returned with a slight edge to his tone.

"No one said Auror training was going to be easy," Hermione replied.

"Well Harry seems to be having no problem at all. Me, on the other hand…it's like navigating through Azkaban at night…with a blindfold on…without a wand!"

"Calm down," Hermione eased, placing her hands on his chest, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Crookshanks was curled into a ginger ball on her favorite armchair. "Do you remember what I've been telling you ever since you started the training?"

"That I'll get better with time," he mumbled back as if he didn't believe in her words at all.

"That's right. You mustn't be so hard on yourself all the time."

"But I think I'm barely showing any improvement. It's been nearly four months since Harry and I started the program and I'm still stuck right where I began."

"I doubt that that's true," Hermione supplied as she began to make her way into her small, closed-off kitchen.

Ron followed. "You don't know what it's like though! Everyone watching you, knowing you're nothing but a talentless loser who can't perform simple defensive spells. It's horrible!"

"You know, more often than not, talking bad about yourself doesn't really help. Why don't you try and be more optimistic about what you're learning. Maybe if you took more of an interest in the theory and practicality of different spells, you would be able to perform them successfully."

"Harry said the same thing," Ron sighed aloud, taking a seat at the small kitchen table. "He offered to practice with me on weekends."

"That's great," Hermione mused, reaching into her fridge and pulling out leftover corned beef sandwiches and setting it on the table. "Are you going to go through with it?"

"I'm thinking about it," Ron said, eyeing the food with growing disdain. "Hermione, you know that you're welcome by the Burrow anytime, right? Mum always has a hot meal waiting for you over there."

"I know but I don't want to be too much of a bother," she replied, sitting across from Ron.

This made him chuckle. "You're not a bother! You know how mum likes a full house! Besides, you're soon going to be part of the family."

She smiled. "I'm staying in tonight. I'm going over there tomorrow anyway."

"Charlie's birthday, right?"

Hermione nodded and then said, "I talked to him today."

"Charlie?" After another nod, he asked, "You stopped by the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Just for a bite of lunch."

"He didn't bore you with dragon escapades from Romania, did he?"

"Ron, that's not nice," she chided, reaching for a sandwich. "You know he doesn't remember much."

"Relax, Hermione, I was joking." He then took one for himself. "Actually, it's been great to have him back home. Growing up, I never really got to see him all that much. He stopped by once the summer of the World Cup and that was pretty much it."

"I'm sure your mum's been ecstatic."

"That would be an understatement," he tallied with wide eyes, reaching for a second helping. "She coddles him every bloody second he's home. That's probably why he stays out a lot."

"He stays out," Hermione repeated, her curiosity piqued.

Ron nodded his head. "According to Ginny."

"Where does he go though?"

"Not sure. If he tells Ginny, she doesn't bother to tell me but I can't say I'm all that interested anyway. What he does is his own business." As Hermione continued to nibble away on her sandwich, Ron continued, "By the way, Ginny's been meaning to talk to you about wedding preparations."

"Really? I haven't received any letters from her."

"One should be on its way, I think. It's just that her time's been stretched thin with the Holyhead Harpies. Whenever she gets home, she's always knackered. Sometimes, she even skips mum's meals if you can believe it!"

"Well I'll see her tomorrow so we'll be able to talk then."

"You know, even though I'm excited for Harry and Ginny, I'll just be glad when this is all over."

"Is it because of your mum," Hermione guessed.

Ron's eyes grew wide as he answered, "She's been a bloody nightmare! It's so bad that she screams bloody murder if you walk down the staircase the wrong way!"

"Oh, honestly Ron-,"

"It's true! Happened to me the other day when Harry and I stopped by!"

"Planning weddings can get a bit hectic. She not only has Harry and Ginny's but ours as well just three months later."

He shrugged. "It all falls on her shoulders though, doesn't it? She's been pressuring everyone to marry for the past year or so, ever since the war ended."

"You know, I wonder why that is," Hermione thought aloud. "I mean, we're all still relatively young. What's the rush in getting married? It just seems a bit strange."

"You're not having second thoughts about us, are you?"

"No," she said truthfully. "It's just that your mum has been trying to set up all your brothers as well, namely Charlie and George. I just don't understand her hurry."

Ron was quiet for a moment before he stated, "You know, you might be on to something. I overheard dad telling mum that the Ministry is looking to enact some sort of marriage law."

"A marriage law," she parroted. "That doesn't sound good."

"It basically forces people to marry one another under a set time frame, and then pop out a few kids from it."

"What?!" Hermione stared over at Ron with her mouth hanging agape, the sandwich in her hands forgotten. "They can't do that! That's totally medieval," Hermione shouted, feeling her blood being to boil.

"I know," he responded calmly. "And that's part of the reason why mum's been a bit mental."

"Why haven't you mentioned this before?"

"I only heard about it a couple of nights ago. It must've slipped my mind, I guess."

"You guess? Ron, this is a big deal!"

"Hang on, Hermione, I haven't told you the rest," he said. However, she talked over him.

"The rest? You mean there's more?!"

"It's not bad. According to what dad said, anyone who's married when the law is put in place will be exempt from it." Hermione fell quiet at this tidbit. "Besides, it has to pass through the Wizengamot, which dad is pretty sure it won't."

"But why a marriage law all of a sudden?"

"What dad said was that many people either died during the war or left the country because of it. At the time, the Ministry didn't think much of it but over the past year, the population has gone down by a larger number than they expected."

"Didn't it cross anyone's mind at the Ministry that this may only be temporary? That the population may increase over time? And honestly, why would they think that a smaller population is bad anyway?"

"Dunno," Ron replied with a small shrug. "But I wouldn't put too much thought into it. Remember, dad said that it's unlikely the law ever gets passed."

"But then, why is your mum still pushing for everyone to get married?"

"You know how she is, Hermione: The one-big-family-makes-her-happy rubbish! And even though dad thinks the law won't ever be put into motion, mum is still weary over the fact that such a law was even considered by the Ministry in the first place."

Hermione considered this and said, "Well she has a point."

"She does but let's not worry about it, okay? It won't apply to us anyway."

Hermione looked over at her fiancé and nodded her head quietly. He smiled before picking up another sandwich and taking a large bite out of it. Hermione though set hers down for she didn't feel much like eating any longer. Her mood had evaporated upon hearing scant whispers of this marriage law as she thought its whole existence was nothing more than a government ploy. And however unlikely it was to ever get passed, there is a slim possibility that the wizarding community in Great Britain would be trapped under its spell.


	5. The Flying Cake

**A/N** : Here is Chapter 2 of the unfinished story. Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

 **When Rats Dance with Poison**

Chapter 2: The Flying Cake

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace of the Burrow with three heavy books tucked against her chest and into an empty living room. Looking around, she heard a series of noises coming from the kitchen and smiled when she saw Mrs. Weasley bustling her way around it: Pots and pans were catering to her every whim, two eggs cracked themselves over a large bowl, and a whisk was stirring up a brown batter.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione greeted warmly.

"Oh, there you are dear," the matriarch replied with a large smile. "I was just about to send Ron over to come get you!"

Hermione shrugged. "I got caught up a bit with my cleaning."

"Well the boys could clearly take a lesson or two out of your book. Their rooms all look as if they just hosted a band of trolls rather than fully-grown wizards!"

Hermione smiled until it was cut short by a sonic _boom_ that thundered from somewhere above them.

"What was that," she questioned, her gaze traversing towards the ceiling.

Mrs. Weasley, on the other hand, set her hands on her hips, her face growing a ripe red, as she exclaimed, "Oh, those boys! Hermione, could you be a dear and tell Ron and Harry to quiet whatever it is they're doing up there. I'm starting to fall behind on Charlie's birthday dinner!"

"Mrs. Weasley, I could help you if you want. It'll be no problem at all."

She smiled. "That's very nice of you but I'll be alright. Just be sure to tell them to calm down whatever nonsense they're causing. They'll be in Ron's room, I think."

Hermione turned on her heel, before pausing, as she then spun around to face Mrs. Weasley again.

"I brought these over for Charlie," she began, holding up the three tomes she had collected off the shelves of Flourish and Blotts. "Do you know where is best to leave them?"

"Hermione, you didn't have to go through the trouble to get Charlie any birthday presents! He strictly said that he didn't want any."

"They're not exactly presents. He told me during lunch yesterday that Tom wanted him to incorporate newer recipes and add them to the Leaky Cauldron menu," she explained. "I thought of these and figured they would be of some help."

"How sweet of you, dear. Charlie's room, then, would be the best place to put them. On the second landing, take the door on your right," Mrs. Weasley instructed, as she flicked her wand upon a large cauldron. It _sizzled_ to life as a bright fire began to burn underneath it.

"Thanks," Hermione said as she turned out of the kitchen and began her march up the rickety staircase.

Coming upon the second upstairs hall, she softly knocked on Charlie's room door but received no response. After obtaining no reply for her second calling, she gently pushed open his door and asked aloud, "Charlie, are you in here?"

Her question was soon answered for his room was completely empty of any living being. She took the chance to look around and saw that his quarters were rather messy: His bed, tucked against the far wall, was unmade, while one of his pillows was strewn on the floor; several drawers of his dresser were open in which his clothing garments were fighting to make their escape to freedom, while a grey pair of boxer shorts was slung on the back of a chair; his desk had a storm of parchment paper across it, as this was paired with ruffled quills and a fair coat of dust.

Hermione decided that she best leave the books for Charlie and duck out, lest he stumbled upon her in his own room, invading his personal space.

After she placed the three volumes atop his bed, she wrestled with the idea of taking the liberty to tidy up his room as it was rather simple to do so, but decided against it, coming to the conclusion that perhaps Charlie liked his room to be in its messy state. She then tiptoed out of it, closing his door on her exit, and continued up towards Ron's room next.

Falling on her destination, she heard Harry say from the other side of the door, "Come on, Ron, I know you can do it! Just focus!"

"This is bloody useless!"

"Just…just try again," Hermione heard Harry urge.

Silence ensued for a brief moment before Ron let forth a slew of curses, none of which his mum would be proud to fall upon as a heavy banging sound followed.

"Ron, that's the third time you punched a hole in the wall!"

"Well what else can I do," he yelled out in anger. "It's not like my wand is listening to me!" A small paused followed as Hermione listened to Ron say, "Why don't we take a break Harry? We can go down to the orchard and scrimmage against Charlie and Ginny. They said they'd be waiting for us down there."

"No, we're not leaving until you can get this right."

Hermione regarded this as an opportune time to see what Ron and Harry were up to, for she twisted the doorknob and entered inside.

The two boys stopped in mid-motion and looked at her as if they had been caught stealing sweets out of a kitchen jar.

"What's going on up here," Hermione questioned, briefly noticing three hole punches the size of Ron's fist punctured along one wall.

"What's going on is me failing," Ron cried out miserably as he threw himself onto his bed, lying spread-eagle upon it.

Harry threw him a dirty look before he answered, "I'm helping Ron with a spell we learned yesterday in training. He's just having a bit of trouble with it."

Before Hermione could reply, Ron interjected, "A bit…a bit?!"

"We just have to keep practicing, is all," Harry said.

"Well do you think you can do it outside," Hermione inserted. "You guys are disrupting Mrs. Weasley downstairs."

"We already tried but Ron gets too distracted out there."

"Oh come on, Harry! We've been going at this for ages! Why don't we take a small break?"

"It has not even been half an hour!"

"Well half an hour is a long time," Ron protested, sitting up to look at Harry with pleading eyes.

"We should keep at it," Harry said, though his gaze flickered over towards the room's sole window. "Just get out a spark, Ron, that's it. A small spark! If you can do that, then we'll take a break."

Heightened with the promise of abandoning his makeshift training session, Ron leapt to his feet while brandishing his wand. Hermione watched from the doorway as he closed his eyes and began to wave it in a complicated manner, his mouth moving silently.

While Harry asked for a spark, what he instead received was another sonic _boom_ , one that rattled the room door against its hinges. Hermione abruptly fell against the frame as if she was dizzy.

Ron turned to face Harry, who let an intense sigh escape him, and started, "I tried, I really did but what I think happened was-,"

" _BOYS! WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING UP THERE?! THERE IS NO REASON FOR YOU TO BE ACTING LIKE A WILD PAIR OF BANSHEES IN MY HOUSEHOLD! I WOULD THINK THAT FULLY-GROWN WIZARDS WOULD BE ABLE TO CONTAIN SUCH UTTER NONSENSE FROM OCCURING! JUST HOW FOOLISH CAN YOU BE? IF I HEAR ANOTHER PEEP OUT OF YOUR ROOM, RONALD, YOU WILL DE-GNOME THE GARDEN AND WASH THE DINNER DISHES WITHOUT YOUR WAND!"_

Mrs. Weasley's screech shook the entire Burrow while Ron paled considerably.

"Who does she think she is? I don't even live here anymore," Ron whined.

"You know, Ron actually makes a good point: Why didn't you practice in your own flat," Hermione inquired.

Harry shrugged. "I didn't think these explosions Ron's been casting could be done with the spell I'm trying to teach him. When done correctly, it's supposed to be silent."

"So are we all in agreement that I'm completely and utterly hopeless," Ron questioned, the color of his face matching that of his hair.

"You just need to practice more," Harry offered again.

"Well we can't do that now, can we? You heard mum and all of her bloody 'you'll de-gnome the garden, Ronald' and 'you'll wash the dishes without your wand, Ronald' nonsense!"

 _"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!"_

Ron's eyes bulged out of his head as his mother's voice carried into his room.

"Shut the door, Hermione," he hissed, waving her forward in a panic.

Before she could do so, she stated, "You know, I think I'm going to go and find Ginny."

With that, she shut the door on her exit as she heard Harry ask, "What does Ginny want now?" He sounded rather frustrated.

"To discuss her bloody wedding preparations. Haven't you noticed that my sister's gone a bit mental?"

Harry began to respond though it fell on deaf ears for Hermione made her way down the staircase, remembering Ron's statement about Charlie and Ginny being in the orchard. She opened the kitchen door as quietly as she could, hoping to slip out undetected for Mrs. Weasley seemed to be in a right mood due to Ron and Harry's practice lessons. However, before the door could shut close, a large chocolate cake whizzed past her.

Flabbergasted, she followed its trajectory as her eyes saw that it flew amongst the trees of her destination. Hermione hurried forward, not noticing the cool wind that washed over her face nor the endless blue sky that was painted above her save for a flock of birds that flew overhead.

Entering inside the circular copse, Hermione stumbled upon both Charlie and Ginny eying the decadent dessert hungrily, both licking their lips, while holding dueling forks in their hands.

"Hey, Hermione," Ginny exclaimed happily. "Care to join?"

"Um, no thanks," she responded, taking a seat next to the youngest Weasley, for she then questioned, "Charlie, isn't this your birthday cake," noticing the _Happy Birthday_ sentiment that was broadcast over its top.

"I assume so," he returned after swallowing a rather large helping, while Ginny purred in satisfaction, letting her eyes close so that she could drown in its richness.

"Well isn't your mum going to wonder where it's gone?"

"Probably," Charlie said, though judging by his tone of voice he sounded as if he could care less.

"Don't worry, Hermione," Ginny waved away. "It's Charlie's birthday, so technically, this is his cake. Besides if mum decides to throw a fit, we can just blame it on Ron." Ginny then eyed Hermione and questioned, "I mean, that is alright with you, isn't it, being that he's your fiancé and all?"

A lonely smirk that hugged Hermione's mouth was her only reply.

"Ron told me last night that you wanted to talk to me about the wedding?"

"Yes, that's right," she responded, as Charlie continued to help himself with his cake. He didn't seem to notice that a dot of chocolate icing was fixated onto his cheek.

"I meant to ask you when you have time to go dress shopping."

"Didn't you plan to get your dress in Diagon Alley?"

Ginny nodded. "Still do."

"Then stop by whenever you're free. I do work there, after all."

"I know but training with the Harpies has been eating into all of my time," she groaned. "Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love it, but I rarely have time to do anything else anymore."

"Welcome to the working world, Ginny," Charlie said over to her with a large smile.

His sister stared coldly back at him before she said, "You know you have a bit of icing on your cheek, right? Just there," Ginny motioned with her finger.

Charlie paused for a quick beat before he rubbed the underside of his navy t-shirt to erase the evidence.

Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother's actions before she inquired, "How does Wednesday sound to you? Unless you want to go tomorrow?"

"I'm actually planning on visiting my parents tomorrow. But Wednesday is fine. I can just go on my lunch break or after work."

"And what am I, a forgotten speck of dust," Charlie butt in.

"What," Hermione asked.

"Isn't having lunch together our kind of thing," he clarified, moving his hand between them.

Ginny looked surprised as she commented, "Oh, well this is certainly new." A gleam caught in her eyes.

"We ate together once," Hermione said, "which was yesterday."

"So starting next week, you're going to stop having lunch, are you," he questioned lightly.

"Well I do live right above the store. It's not like I have to go miles away to get food."

"It's just an offer," he shrugged, though Hermione thought she detected a hint of disappointment behind his blue eyes.

"Mum actually wants to come along with us," Ginny then inserted. "That isn't good news for lunch-sick Charlie as she'll probably spend ages trying to find the right dress."

"I'll ignore that comment, Ginny, if it means I get to have another lunch with Hermione over here," he smiled.

"Why are you so insistent on having lunch with her," his sister questioned.

"Because it's boring without someone to talk to," he shrugged, peeking quickly up at Hermione before returning his attention back to his cake. It was nearly gone now.

Ginny shot Hermione a curious glance but she just shook her head in return. She then decided to ask, "By the way, where's everyone else?"

Ginny answered, "Percy and George are still over at the shop and dad's at the Ministry."

"On a Saturday?"

"He apparently had to get a lot of paperwork in order or something like that. Bill and Fleur should be by soon."

"And how's Fleur doing?"

"Not bad, according to Bill. Her morning sickness is at least beginning to wear off."

"She's due in May, right?"

"Yep," Ginny nodded. "Mum and dad are practically bouncing off the walls because of it."

"You know, speaking of your dad, I actually want to talk to him," Hermione voiced aloud.

Ginny's brows furrowed together. "Why?"

Hermione sighed as she said, "Last night, Ron told me that the Ministry is considering passing some sort of Marriage law."

"Marriage law," both Charlie and Ginny repeated at the same time.

Hermione nodded.

"Hang on a second, did Ron hear about this from Auror training?"

"No, he apparently overheard your mum and dad talk about it a couple of nights ago."

Ginny looked stumped at this piece of news while Charlie was looking downward at the blades of grass beneath him.

"So then this Marriage law," Charlie put in, "d'you know exactly what it entails?"

"Not specifically, other than forced marriages and consummation."

"Consu-what," Ginny asked.

"It means having sex," Charlie answered flatly as Hermione felt her cheeks burn.

"Oh," was his sister's sole reply. "Can the Ministry even do this though? I'm sure many people would be against it."

"Well it's happened before," Hermione returned.

Both Charlie and Ginny stared over at her as the latter queried, "Has it?"

She nodded and replied, "I read about it in a book late last night. It was a long time ago, though, right after the Ministry was given full governmental powers over Britain. The population, they thought, was too low at the time so they enacted a Marriage law to spur growth. Of course, the Ministry was founded in 1707," Hermione went on. "At that time, arranged marriages were more of a norm than today."

"So then low population numbers is what the Ministry's afraid of in deciding whether to push through with this thing," Charlie guessed.

Hermione nodded silently.

"But this is just so unfair," Ginny fumed with her hands crossed over her chest. "Harry and I are set to be married in two weeks, and you, Hermione, you and Ron, too!"

"Hold on, Ginny. Ron did say that if you are married by the time the law goes into effect, you'll be exempt from it."

At this, Ginny blew out a long sigh of relief before a brief panic set into her eyes again. "And when is this supposed to start?"

"Well that's another aspect altogether. Ron doesn't think it'll pass, or rather, he says your dad doesn't think it'll go through the Wizengamot."

"Oh," Ginny said again, though this time in a much chirpier voice. "If dad said that, then I'm not too worried about it. I mean, he's usually right about these type of things."

"But does that excuse the Ministry from even thinking about forcing people to marry and start a family, possibly against their own will?"

"No but then again, there's a good chance we won't even have to worry about it," she responded, standing to her feet and brushing herself off. "This law was probably mentioned but never really considered. Besides, Kingsley is the Minister, and I trust that he'll do what's right."

Hermione found no reply to this as all signs were pointing towards the law never actually coming to fruition.

"Anyway, I'll meet you lot back inside," she stated.

"Where are you going," Hermione questioned.

"I'm in need of the loo. I drank too much Pumpkin juice earlier. Ask Charlie if you don't believe me." And with a small wave, she departed.

Hermione continued to sit where she was in silence, her thoughts churning through muddy waters, until Charlie's voice suddenly stated, "You still look worried," as she found his eyes were trained on her.

"I am," she replied honestly.

He nodded once before he asked, "You want to take a brief walk with me?"

"Where would we go?"

"Just to the garden."

"The garden?"

"Hermione, I have to get rid of this cake," he said, gesturing down to the dessert he and Ginny had partaken in.

"Why would you want to get rid of it? It's yours!"

"Do you honestly think that I'm going to return a half-eaten cake back to mum?"

"And you think the garden is the best place to dispose of it?"

"Come on, just follow me, and we'll talk on the way," he offered, standing to his feet. He brushed his hands over his jeans before he picked up the cake. Hermione followed suit.

As the pair walked out of the orchard, he said, "You know, Ginny's right though, about the Marriage law most likely not getting passed. It's too defunct now."

"That doesn't stop me from still worrying about it."

"But the law wouldn't even pertain to you, being that you're set to marry Ron."

"And what about you," she said back.

Charlie paused momentarily before he asked, "You're worried about me?"

When Hermione turned to look at him, she expected to see a small bout of amusement erupt over his facial features but was surprised to see shards of seriousness instead.

"Well you and everyone else, I guess. It just wouldn't be fair. I mean, to think of all the people that don't even want to get married…it's just so barbaric to force it on them."

"You're talking as if this law has already been passed."

"Sorry, I was just thinking about it all night."

"I know this isn't exactly the best way to put it but whatever happens with it, it's out of your hands. Even then, you shouldn't count out the logical reasoning of those still in power over at the Ministry."

Hermione nodded at his words before asking, "Do you think it has a chance of passing?"

Charlie remained silent for a bit until he said, "Even if it does, I can't imagine that it wouldn't be overturned due to the backlash it would receive."

Hermione pondered over this though she noticed that he didn't exactly answer her question.

The duo then fell into a strained silence as they continued on their trek to the Weasley garden, with Charlie still holding onto his cake. A light wind stole over them, making Hermione's blouse ripple over her in small waves while strands of her wild, untamable hair danced in the breeze.

Her thoughts were still fastened onto this Marriage law for it was bothering her for the sole reason that it was highly unjustifiable, no matter which way the Ministry was going to spin it if it was ever made to pass. Hermione felt highly affronted that their government was weighing the possibility of taking away a freedom she believed in – one in which witches and wizards could marry whomever they saw fit while not under the arranged matrimonial banner. However, this thought sprouted a question within her.

"Charlie," she asked over. "What would you think of this Marriage law if it was to pass, figuratively speaking, of course?"

He looked over at her, his face an indecipherable mask, and said, "Can't say I'm too fond of it, really. It's like they're compromising our independence or something like that, you know? It's just strange that the first possible, major outcome to come from the end of the war is this type of law."

"Do you have any plan against it?"

At this, Charlie chuckled. "Hermione, this is the first time I'm hearing of this. Do you seriously think I've studied potential loopholes to see where I can slip through in the past couple of minutes?"

"It was just a question," she shrugged.

She didn't notice that he stole another look from her as he then commented, "I guess the only option for me to avoid being set up would be to go back to Romania. Of course, I've been given a year off to recuperate so I'm not sure how that's going to work out, if at all."

"Your full memory could come back before then," she suggested.

"It still wouldn't matter. A year's a year, nothing less and nothing more, unless there are long-term effects. But my healer has already shot down those worries."

"Well then, you could get married on your own, then you won't have to worry about the law altogether."

"That's certainly an option. You know any birds that are single and looking to get wedded within the next couple of months?"

Hermione looked over at Charlie to see a grin gracing his features.

"Funny, Charles, real funny."

"Oh come on, I'm getting better, aren't I?"

"With your jokes?"

"No, my sarcasm."

"You call that sarcasm?" With his nod, she said, "Still needs quite a bit of polishing off, if you ask me."

"Well who says I was asking you?"

"You just did."

He let out a contemptuous sigh and replied, "You could try and give me a little more encouragement."

Hermione laughed. "Excuse me but I didn't know you were ditching your dragon-keeper duties to be a stand-up comedian. Where's your first show going to be? Knockturn Alley?"

"Whoa-ho-ho," Charlie mused. "I didn't know Miss Granger possessed a teasing nature about her! Quite a catch, I must say!"

"Charlie, you haven't even known me that long. I have many different sides left unexplored," she jested, feeling the temperament of her mirth take a life of its own, something she has never let happen before.

"Sounds like a personal challenge to me," he returned with a handsome smirk. He licked his lips as if in anticipation. For a long second, Hermione stared at them as her pulse quickened. She then shied away with a smile.

They soon found themselves just outside of the garden as Hermione, returning to more serious avenues, asked, "So what exactly are you going to do with your cake?"

"You'll see," he replied quietly. "But before you do, you sure you don't want a piece? This is your last chance."

"No thanks, I'm not that big on sweets."

"Suit yourself," he shrugged before he stepped inside the perimeter, beckoning for her to follow him. She did as he then told her, "I've recently made a discovery that garden gnomes take quite a liking to anything chocolate."

"Chocolate," Hermione repeated, skirting around the small, frog-infested pond.

"Chocolate," he finalized.

"So you're just going to give them your cake?"

He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. "You sound disappointed."

"No, I, um…it just seems strange."

"I don't think so," he said as he turned back around as they were now traversing in the middle of a large patch of weeds. "Gnomes apparently like chocolate. I have some so I'm going to give it to them. It's as simple as that really." He then stopped walking as he whispered back to her, "Watch."

Charlie carefully set down the cake platter on the ground directly in front of a gnome hole. As he stepped back next to Hermione, she then saw a gnome stick out its head, its eyes engrossed on the cake before it.

The creature then disappeared for a second before it popped back out of its hole, followed by nearly a dozen others. They ambushed the cake, cackling with glee as they did so, deconstructing it piece by piece. They then bulldozed back underground, not even leaving a crumb behind.

Hermione remained quiet for a minute before she observed, "That was something I've never seen before."

Charlie turned towards her with a large beam and said, "Stick by me, _'Mione_ , and I'll be sure to show you a whole host of things you've never even dreamed of."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the garden, ignoring Hermione's huff at her nickname, leaving behind an intoxicating aroma of pine in his wake.

* * *

Charlie's birthday dinner was an illustrious affair as the Weasley family members, in addition to Hermione and Harry, all gathered to join in on the numerous foods Mrs. Weasley had prepared.

Hermione was seated next to Ginny, as the former was listening to the latter recite off all the possibilities of where Harry was going to take her on their honeymoon as he refused to divulge where the location was to be. Across the table, Ron was centered in on a heated debate with George about the chances the Chudley Cannons had of competing in the World Cup.

As the brother's discussion quickly morphed into a shouting argument (mainly from Ron's end), Mrs. Weasley stepped in and scolded both of her sons for disrupting Charlie's birthday meal, saying that it should not be focused on such mundane subject matters.

She then cleared off the table with a lazy wave of her wand as suddenly, a large cake in the shape of a dragon and painted with an orange ferocity, appeared before Charlie, making his eyes grow wide in astonishment. Hermione herself was quite taken aback as the item occupied half of the kitchen table.

"Wow, mum," he said quietly, clearly surprised.

"What do you think dear," she asked with her hands on her son's broad shoulders.

He answered, "Well…it's certainly big," gaining a chuckle from her.

She then flicked her wand as a large knife started cutting the cake in pieces which were distributed to everyone around. Charlie lucked out with the head of the dragon.

Mrs. Weasley turned to her husband and said, "You know, Arthur, I also made a chocolate cake for Kingsley's birthday earlier but I have no idea where it went!"

Hearing this, Hermione saw both Charlie and Ginny share a look before sniggering into their fists.

Ron, on the other hand, voiced loudly, "What chocolate cake?" Seeing his brother and sister consumed with a hilarity he knew not of, he then directed, "And what are you two laughing at?"

As the Weasley parents focused their attention on the amused duo, Ginny aimed a kick at Ron under the table. However, she caught Harry instead. As he doubled over in pain, Ginny whispered over, "Sorry." He tried to give her a tight smile in return though it looked more of a grimace.

"Well I guess it wouldn't be too much to bake up another," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "And I'm sure Charlie and Ginny wouldn't mind helping, would they?"

"Mum, I have to work," Charlie protested.

"And I have training," Ginny joined in.

"Not tomorrow you don't," she pointed one of her fingers at her daughter, making her sulk.

As Ginny grumbled aloud, though she made sure to keep her voice low under the assurance her mother wouldn't hear, Hermione turned and inquired lowly, "Mr. Weasley, can I ask you something?"

The balding wizard faced her with warm eyes, just as Mrs. Weasley began to unleash a tirade over at George who conjured the orange icing on the cake to smear itself all over Ron's face. _("He was talking with his mouth full!"_ was the twin's argument.) He said, "Of course you can. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, for the most part, it's just that, um, well Ron came by last night and told me of this Marriage law the Ministry was contemplating on passing."

At this, the features on Mr. Weasley's face hardened considerably. He set his fork down, wiped his mouth with a napkin and said, "I'm not sure how much Ron heard, Hermione, but you can rest assured that by no means is Kingsley intent on letting that piece of legislation go anywhere near the Wizengamot. It certainly is an outdated edict and I can only imagine the objections it would raise in the community against the Ministry and quite frankly, no one wants that."

"So it's true then that the Ministry is concerned with low population numbers?"

He nodded. "Yes, that much is factual, and there are all sorts of ideas and proposals being tossed around in how to rupture the downward spiral. The Marriage law was one of those motions that was brought forward though any real thought on that passing is more of a dream than a close reality."

She was quiet before she stated, "I guess when Ron told me of it, I was surprised mainly that anything like that would possibly be considered."

He smiled as then returned, "You'd be best to not worry about it, Hermione. It was just a thought that was thrown around but never taken into actual deliberation."

"Mr. Weasley, does no one in the Ministry think that having a smaller population might turn out to be a good thing, especially in the long run?"

"Ah, well you see, many leaders in Great Britain never really think in the long term unfortunately, and by in-large, for some reason, they pinpoint a large population with mightier strength which seems rather foolish given Voldemort's rise to power in two separate decades, especially in the early seventies when the magical community in Britain reached its peak in terms of overall numbers.

"Yet, there have been a surge of births in other magical communities around the world, most notably over in America, and with that, the Ministry thinks we are lagging behind. Of course, this is again, an archaic type of mindset but is measured as a problem by many of our own leaders."

"But that's just ridiculous," Hermione replied.

"I whole-heartedly agree with you but I'm afraid much of the Ministry does not."

"So have you heard of any other ways in which they might try to increase the population?"

"Well the plan right now is to take a raw poll and count how large our numbers are and go from there."

"How are they going to do that?"

"Through owl post," Mr. Weasley responded simply, "sent to every household, asking of its size, and whether or not there are any pregnancies pending."

"But how would they know if the families are telling the truth?"

Mr. Weasley chuckled with good nature before he said, "Hermione, ask yourself this: Why would anyone have any motivation to lie about their household size? It's a simple question without any punishable actions to be taken up for. Of course, it's not a standard procedure by any means but quite unproblematic at its surface."

Hermione nodded and smiled before they both returned to their cake. Even after speaking with Mr. Weasley, Hermione still felt uneasy about the whole Marriage law, with now the added thought of how the Ministry viewed its own population insecurity. Deep in her heart, she knew that there was another undercurrent to all that Mr. Weasley had told her…and had not told her.


	6. A Winter Wedding

**A/N** : And here is the final installment to my unfinished story. I hope you enjoyed that four-part mini serial. If you wish, feel free to tell me your thoughts on it!

* * *

 **When Rats Dance with Poison**

Chapter 3: A Winter Wedding

The snow had come early for it fell in gentle spells from the darkened skies above upon the golden marquee that had been erected earlier, one that hosted the wedding of Harry and Ginny. Christmas trees surrounded the marriage festivities, glowing under a chorus of multicolored lights, while the ceiling was a spider web of small yellow bulbs.

Circular tables, donned in fair, white cloth and a bouquet of red roses, surrounded a makeshift dance floor, while the head table, occupied by the groom, bride, best man, and maid of honor, was flanked by two ice sculptures: One in the form of a stag while its partner took that of a horse. It was Fleur's creation, a specialty of hers.

"So how do you now feel," Hermione asked her dancing associate, none other than the groom himself.

"Like I'm dreaming," Harry replied, as they skirted around the brother-sister duo, the latter of who was complaining that the former kept stepping on her toes.

"It looks its part though," she reasoned back. "The snow falling on Christmas night. We don't get much of those back in London, do we?"

"No," he agreed. "Not at all." After a brief pause, he questioned, "How're things with you, Hermione? We haven't talked all that much for a long time it feels like."

She shrugged, "We've both been busy. You with Auror training and me back at the bookstore."

"Well how's it over there?"

"Pretty hectic considering its Christmastime. I can't even tell you how many men I've helped over the past week in picking out good books to gift their wives over the holiday."

"They were in good hands, then. I mean, you are Hermione Granger, after all."

"I'm well aware of my name, thank you," she tossed back, making him grin. "So, are you going to let me in on where you're taking Ginny for your honeymoon?"

"And risk you spoiling the surprise? I don't think so," he shook his head from side to side.

"Doesn't being your best friend count as anything anymore?"

"Sure it does but not in this situation. Telling you its location would've been like me spoiling how Ron had planned to propose to you," he said. "I can't do it."

Hermione smiled, her mind fluttering back to when she found a ring attached to her favorite bookmarker. A turn of her head found Ron bending down on one knee.

"It was a sweet thing for him to do," she sighed with contentment.

"Trust me, I'm positive Ginny with fill you in on all the details when we get back."

"This must be some place you're taking her to. I can't believe you guys won't be here to ring in the New Year!"

"We'll be somewhere else," he responded.

"Obviously, I just meant that we all won't be together."

"What're your plans for it anyway?"

"Ron and I are going to do lunch with my parents before coming back here for dinner."

"You have to let me know how that goes. You were pretty hysterical the first time you introduced Ron to your mum and dad."

"Do you mean the night my dad stormed out of the house while Ron tried to cast a Memory charm upon himself to forget everything that had happened?"

"That's the one," Harry said.

"Yes, well, I hardly think my parents warmed up to him since then," she grimaced.

"Hermione, I don't mean this in a bad way but aren't you worried at all about what your parents think of your engagement and future marriage to Ron? Back at school, you always seemed really close to them."

"It's really my mum I'm close to. My dad not so much," she offered over. "Anyway, my mum's always told me that as long as I'm happy, she is. That's what I'm going by right now."

"What's wrong with your dad?"

"Not something I want to talk about," she murmured, growing cold against Harry even though a Hot-air charm had been placed over the entire pergola.

He nodded, consenting to her wishes, for he then commented, "Maybe Ron just has to grow on them, kind of like how he did to you."

Hermione, momentarily forgetting about her dad, laughed and repeated, "You think Ron grew on me and that's why I'm marrying him?"

"Something like it, yeah," Harry said. "I mean, it was clear you two had some feelings for each other back at Hogwarts but you both decided not to act on 'em." He stopped, then went on, "No, you and Ron decided to show your true feelings to one another at the most opportune time, right in the middle of the fighting."

"We were caught up in everything," Hermione gushed. "It just happened."

Harry smirked.

"Don't look at me like that, Harry, we were all young. We still are."

"I know but it's just funny seeing how far we've all come since first year, especially you and him. I don't think there could've been two more opposites that attracted like you guys. But, in the end, I'm happy for both of you."

"Thank you, that means a lot."

As the song ended, Harry and Hermione shared a hug, one in which showcased the weight of their friendship and all that they had been through together. They smiled to each other then parted, Harry taking up arms with Mrs. Weasley, while Hermione decided to take a break by walking over to a table laden with decadent desserts.

She peered over numerous trays playing home to some of the most exquisite mouthfuls she had ever seen. Suffice to say, Hermione was completely awed by their facades.

"Try the one with the blue bird," a voice rumbled from behind her.

She turned and saw Charlie standing there, his hands fisted behind his back, smiling a boyish grin at her. He was wearing a grey suit jacket and matching pants over a white button up, a striped blue and white tie around his neck. His short red hair was slightly ruffled, it looking windswept.

"What is it," she questioned, picking up his request.

"A vanilla square with fresh raspberries in its center. The bird's made of colored icing," he informed her.

After popping the small cake into her mouth, her eyes closed with the sensation the treat provided: One of immense flavor with a perfect balance of sweet and savory.

"That's…that's absurd," she stated.

"Absurd?"

Hermione nodded. "Absurd in how good it is. I'm usually not big on sugary foods but this is…wow. Did you try it?"

"I made 'em," Charlie shrugged with a crooked smile.

"Did you really?"

"Yeah, I picked out these desserts from the books you got me for my birthday a couple of weeks ago."

"You're enjoying them, I take it?"

"Immensely," he nodded. " _Tallyfine's Tasty Tarts, Treats, and Tapiocas_ ," he counted off on three fingers, "is probably my favorite."

"Why is that?"

"It's the only book with pictures in it. The others are just full of recipes."

"And that's a bad thing," Hermione arched up a brow.

"Well it does give me an endgame to look at, just to see if what I baked up is how it's supposed to be."

"I guess that's reasonable," she nodded.

"Are you going to try some more?"

"Why?"

"I need someone's judgment I can trust," he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"And that's me?"

"You did offer some flattering reviews of my Shepherd's Pie a couple of weeks ago. And you raved over my Bubble and Squeak Cakes just this past week."

"Oh honestly, _raved_ is a strong word-,"

"So what would you use: Illustrious…prestigious…renowned?"

Hermione looked over at him and said, "Charlie, I think all the sugar is going to your head."

He threw back his head and laughed deeply.

"Funny," he teased, picking up a small plate and handing it to her. "Don't be scared to try all of 'em, and I assure you that they're completely safe."

"Safe?"

"Yeah. In one of those books you brought by, I think its name was _From the Dessert Catalogue of Lyn_ , it showed how to prepare exploding jelly."

"Really? Exploding jelly? What's the point of making it only for it to go off?

"Hey, you picked up the books, not me."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes as she chose three different desserts.

"By the way, do you mind if I keep 'em?"

"No, not at all," she said.

"Excellent! How much do I owe you?"

"Charlie, you don't have to pay for them. Consider it a birthday gift."

"But I didn't ask for any birthday gift."

"Fine, then consider them a Christmas present."

"But I didn't get you any Christmas present."

"Charlie, don't worry about it. It's not a big deal."

He shrugged nonchalantly, pouting a bit as he did so.

"Let's go sit down," Hermione suggested, as she scanned the marquee for Ron. She saw him conversing with Seamus, who had surprised everyone when he a brought a noticeably-pregnant Lavender Brown as his date. Seeing her had Ginny making Lavender swear she wouldn't publish any part of her wedding in _Witch Weekly_ , the magazine the latter wrote for.

Just as Hermione spotted two empty chairs at a nearby table, Aunt Muriel Weasley, gripping a bottle of White Rat Whiskey in one hand, suddenly stumbled before she and Charlie.

"Ah, the Muggle-Born," the aged witch exclaimed. "I must say your dress hides your skinny ankles yet does nothing but promote your bad posture."

"Excuse me," Charlie intervened, extending his arm before Hermione, barring her from going any further. "But who are you?"

Aunt Muriel turned her attention on him and said rather rudely, "Oh yes, Molly told me you were now handicapped. Such a shame considering you inherited the handsome genes of the family."

Aunt Muriel took a large swig of whiskey, Hermione taking notice that a colossal, dead raven was perched atop her dark purple hat. She then commented roughly, "Merlin's beard, this younger generation is going to the trolls! Look how that one is dressed!"

Hermione and Charlie followed her piercing gaze only to find that it was directed at Ginny.

"Aunt Muriel," Hermione began cautiously, "that's your great niece, Ginny Weasley."

"Why on earth would Molly fit Ginevra into such a classless piece? Doesn't she know that street girls wear those types of costumes nowadays?" Tutting to herself, she went away, staggering every other step.

"Well she's quite cheery, isn't she," Charlie questioned as he pulled out a chair for Hermione to sit in. He took the seat next to hers.

"That's certainly one way of putting it," Hermione muttered.

"Why, Miss Granger, were you taking a crack at your own bit of sarcasm?" She looked over and saw Charlie with his brows raised while a striking smile played out over his face.

"Please tell me that's not your attempt at humor," she returned playfully.

He coughed once into his fist and said, "It can be if you want it to."

Hermione grinned, "Charlie, what does that even mean?"

"No idea," he replied, shaking his head from side to side. "I just said the first thing that came to my mind."

"And have you always done that?"

"From what I can remember, pretty much."

After a small bout of silence, Hermione pushed her plate between them and said, "Do you want to try some of your desserts?"

"Uh, you know what-,"

"Here, it's not a problem," she said, gesturing down at the treats. "You shared your lunch with me so I'm returning the favor."

"This isn't exactly lunch, per se."

"It's the same idea."

"Is it?"

"Charlie, don't make me regret sharing with you."

"You certainly don't have to. There's a table-full just a few feet away."

Hermione smirked but didn't respond. Instead, she took in the view of the wedding in full swing: Harry was now carrying on with Fleur while Ginny took a chance on Bill; Percy's cheeks were a rosy red due to the fact that George kept refilling his wine glass to its brim, a mischievous glint sparkling within his eyes; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, on the other hand, had decided to retire to a lone table far away, as both were looking deep into the other's eyes. Mrs. Weasley was giggling behind her hand every other second.

"This is nice," Hermione commented softly.

"What's that," Charlie asked.

"The wedding. Did you know that your mum wasn't initially thrilled by Harry and Ginny's plans?"

"Really? Why's that?"

"She thought it was too small. There are probably less than half of the guests here than there were at Bill and Fleur's."

"You know I remember that wedding."

"You do," Hermione asked surprised.

He nodded. "Like I told you before, some things come and go. It was quite memorable from my standpoint."

"Why?"

At this, Charlie ducked his head down and said lowly, "Well halfway through, I kinda snuck off with one of Fleur's cousins."

"Do I even want to know what happened?"

"I can tell you if you want but let's just say we did a bit more than a quick snog." A dreamy look came over him. "She had the best legs I have ever seen."

"Yeah, I think I'm going to stop you right there," Hermione insisted, holding up a hand to mark her point. "Not that it isn't an interesting story but it's not exactly for me."

"What if I decide to publish it? Then you'll have to sell it in that shop of yours."

Hermione laughed. "That doesn't mean I have to read it."

Charlie shook his head from side to side, rolling his eyes in good humor.

After a slight pause, Hermione began seriously, "Charlie, do you ever want to get married?"

"Well I might not have much of a choice."

"No, I mean, forget about the Marriage law. Just, did you ever see yourself settling down for the long term?"

He fell quiet, pondering over his answer. He started with a sigh. "I guess it was kind of expected of me, well, of all of us, really, by mum to get married some day. When I was younger, I never really thought of it exactly. I assumed that it would just happen. But now that I'm older, the idea doesn't really appeal to me all that much. Of course, that doesn't stop mum from trying her best to fix me up with some random witch."

"Ron and I were talking about your mum and we think that she's a bit terrified that the Marriage law may actually pass by some bad fortune or another, and she's trying to match everyone off so that it won't apply to any of us."

"But that's not how relationships work. People need time and space, and definitely no outside pressure from third-parties. Trying to force people together, in what is supposed to be a romantic contract, is asking for a disaster."

"I know," Hermione relayed. "I guess we just have to hope that the Ministry will be reasonable and not pass it."

Charlie nodded before he opened his mouth and said, "Did you know that I'm engaged?"

"You what," Hermione inquired quite loudly, whipping her head to look at him with wide eyes. "Why haven't you said anything before?"

"I only received her letter yesterday. She works in Romania on the dragon reserve there," he informed her.

"And you couldn't have told me you were engaged when I asked if you ever wanted to get married a couple of seconds ago?"

"Being engaged is not the same as being married," he returned with a slight edge.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing."

"What did the letter say?"

"Asking how I was doing and if I remember her and all."

"Are you sure it was authentic?"

"It is. I do, in fact, remember her. Of course, I only did so after I got her letter but same difference. I just don't remember being engaged to her."

"You didn't tell your family of it?"

"Apparently not," he scratched the side of his head. "I'm not quite sure why though."

"So I assume that you're not going to tell them now?"

"No, not yet at least. It's like I already said: Something about it doesn't feel right."

"In what way?"

"I'm not exactly sure. I mean, I remember some of my life back in Romania but not all of it. It was something about her letter that seemed off, if that makes any sense."

"No, not really," Hermione responded honestly.

"You think you can duck out of here for a couple of minutes?"

"Why," she asked back, her brow furrowing.

"I want to show you the letter but it's up in my room. We can see what you make of it."

Hermione looked around and saw that no one was paying them any attention.

"Yeah, yeah I guess I can."

"Come on then before anyone sees us."

Charlie stood to his feet and ducked between two Christmas trees, disappearing from view. Hermione, looking back over shoulder and seeing no sign of Ron, followed him, vanishing out of sight.

The snow was still falling, puncturing the black horizon of its color as white flurries danced down as if they were of a drunken mindset. The pair walked away from the glinting marquee, bathed in the sounds of merriment and an unmanned minute orchestra, adopting its usage as a beacon for lost ships to harbor against fast-moving waters gushing out to the open sea.

"Are you cold," Charlie suddenly voiced over, noticing that Hermione had wrapped her arms around herself as the icy chill melted into her skin.

"A bit," she shivered.

"Here," he said, taking off his grey suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders.

"Thanks," she replied, becoming aware of the pine aroma she had accustomed him to over their past lunch meetings.

They continued on in silence, slipping every other foot on the wet ground beneath them, until Charlie opened the front door for Hermione to pass into.

"Should I ignite my wand," Hermione asked.

"If you want," he answered, "but I know my way around here." He hesitated for a small beat before he said, "Take my hand…unless you want to use your wand as light."

Hermione placed her hand in Charlie's without offering it a second thought as the two moved like shadows through the towering home. The walls of the Burrow bled under the color of the wedding that was able to seep through the dislodged window's curtains.

Trekking up the stairs and exiting off the second landing, Charlie pushed into his room with a sincere, "My room's a bit messy."

"Don't worry about it," Hermione told him with a gentle smile. "It's not like we're moving in together."

With a shrug he led her inside, waving his wand to burn a candle into existence. It spread across his room in a warm flame, globing against one corner.

"It's over here," he gestured, moving towards his desk and picking up an envelope and handing it over to Hermione. "Take a look and see for yourself."

She took it from him and read by candlelight:

 _To Charlie Weasley,_

 _You may or may not remember me but my name is Camille Zigs. I work on the Romanian Dragon Reserve as an interim healer. I have treated you for burns on a number of different occasions as well as mended your many broken bones you have sustained in the year I've been on duty._

 _I'm contacting you to see how you are faring. Word is, is that you have maintained a fair memory loss due to the dragon attack that occurred back in August. I don't know if the following piece of news will settle you or not but none of your comrades received permanent injury. They are all well yet missing your presence over here in Romania._

 _Depending on how severe your memory loss may be, this can come as a bit of a shock to let you know that you and I are currently engaged to one another. You're a smart man, Charlie, as you may now be asking yourself if you and I are betrothed, why have I not stopped by to see how well you are holding up._

 _As a matter of fact, I sat by your side the entire first week of your hospital stay in London, which is where I met your family – don't panic, I didn't tell them of our relationship per your wishes to keep it a secret though when you get back, I want a detailed answer as to why you're keeping this from your family._

 _Your second question is probably why haven't I been back to visit. The truth of the matter is, is that your healer thought you would regain your memories faster if you were surrounded by family. I know, I didn't like it either but anything to aid the road to recovery you were about to venture on I would be of help no matter what was asked of me._

 _If you remember me, I do hope to find forgiveness but your absence has been hard on me, Charlie, and I've found a small realm of comfort in burying myself in my work over here. It certainly is a coward's way out but I want you better, not for my sake but for ours. I hope you are well and I assure you that I'm awaiting with an anxious heart to see how you are doing._

 _Forever yours,_

 _Camille_

"Wow," Hermione commented."This is sad."

"Sad? In what way?"

She turned to look at him and said, "I mean that your fiancé kept away from you to help with your recovery. It's clear that it hurt her to do so but she did what your healer thought was best."

"You don't think it sounds a bit wonky?"

"Not to me," she offered, glancing down at the words again. "What makes you think so?"

"Dunno," he said, looking down as well. "It's just this feeling. It's like something isn't right about it."

"But you said you remember her, right?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember anything about her? What she looks like or her personality?"

"That I don't. My mind's a bit clogged on that front."

"So what are you going to do?"

He paused. "What do you think? Write back or ignore it?"

"Well I definitely wouldn't ignore it," she replied rather incredulously."But if I were in this situation, I would send a letter back."

"Saying what?"

"Letting her, what's her name, Camille, know that you are doing well but there are some aspects of your life that come and go. Something simple like that will be fine."

"The only problem is that nothing seems simple about this letter. But if you think that's what's best to do, I'll send a response." He scratched away at his chest when he added, "Also, if you could do me a favor and not mention this to anyone else, especially mum."

Hermione looked up at him and said, "Don't worry, Charlie, your secret is safe with me."

* * *

Their lips folded over one another's as he backed her into her room, blindingly discarding his navy suit jacket, followed by his bow tie and dress shirt. They breathed into each other, gasping for air, before returning to their midnight intimacy rodeo.

Ron kicked off his shoes while Hermione undid her bun letting her brown mane wash over her bare shoulders. They shared another hasty kiss before Ron fumbled with his belt, swinging out of it as he dropped it on the floor with a heavy _clunk_.

His hands returned to her waist, giving it a fruitful squeeze, before he pulled back, giving her dress a flick of his head, his eyes watering for what lay beneath.

"We can't go too far, Ron," Hermione whispered, after she stole another kiss from her fiancé.

Frown lines creased over his head asking, "Why not?"

Thankfully it was dark in her room. She returned with a blush, "I-I'm not ready. Not yet."

He let out a heavy sigh as he released her from his hold, agitation building within him.

"When do you think you're going to be," he questioned, though his voice was of a light personality and not the growl she expected.

"I'm not sure but just not yet."

He looked deep into her irises, letting them sink into her brown depths as he slowly nodded his head.

"Alright," he let out. "That's-that's fair."

"I'm sorry, Ron."

He waved his hand. "You're not ready. I get it. It's totally fine."

"Are you sure?"

He was quiet.

"As much as I want this, I don't want you to feel pressured."

Hermione gave him a heartfelt smile, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She sniffled, inhaling a vanilla-like fragrance.

"Thanks for understanding," she whispered into his ear.

He enfolded her body against his, pressing his face into the nape of her neck.

"How about we save it?"

Hermione gave him a confused look.

"What do you mean?"

"Let's save this," he motioned between them, "for our wedding night. You think you'll be okay then?"

"We don't have to. I may want it before," she jested gently.

"Yeah but I think it'll be more meaningful if we wait. There's no rush to get it done you know."

"If that's what you want then I'm perfectly fine with waiting, too."

He smiled down at her, brushing his lips against hers again.

"Are you going to stay," she questioned.

"I shouldn't," he replied, making Hermione inwardly slump. "I'd be too tempted."

"I'd keep you straight, Ron."

"You would," he agreed. "But not tonight."

"Okay, we should get our sleep, then," she commented softly.

"I'll be by tomorrow," he told her, picking up his discarded clothing garments.

"That'd be great. See you later."

With a small wave, Ron left.


	7. Dog and Cat People

**Dog and Cat People**

* * *

 **A/N** : So here's another drabble for you, though this one's a bit short. I hope people are still aboard the Charlie/Hermione train! The ship will never sail!

* * *

 _He's at it again_ , she sighed to herself, peeking from behind her curtains across the motorway. _Doesn't he know that the more he feeds it, it'll keep coming back looking for food? Honestly!_

Hermione tried to restrain herself, to cloud her mind with how much cleaning she had planned to get done by sundown, yet her hands and feet acted upon a mind of their own, for she found herself marching towards her front door and walking outside, a canvas of grey painted above her.

Asphalt meeting shoe, she carried forward, entering into her neighbor's yard before knocking upon the door. Waiting several moments paired together with some shuffling, it opened as Charlie Weasley's curious face greeted her.

"Yes?"

"I've noticed that you've been feeding the dog again," she said, folding her arms over her chest.

"What's it to you?"

"Nothing, except the fact that I've asked you to stop."

"And who says I have to take orders from you," he questioned, leaning against his doorframe. She noticed he was wearing a blue hoodie, grey sweatpants, and black socks.

"The dog upsets my cat," Hermione relayed, balling her hands into fists.

"So?" he shrugged. He looked completely unperturbed over the situation.

She glared over at him. "So that means you have to stop feeding him."

"Listen, there isn't any law that says I can't feed a stray," he returned, his eyes gazing fondly down at the sandy-colored Corgi on his front porch, its face hidden as it dug into the food bowl Charlie set out for him. "Besides, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised by your actions. I did always hear that cat people are pretty heartless, just like the felines that control them."

"Excuse you, but cats do not control people," she tossed back. "It's dog people that are just as brainless as their own canines!"

"Listen, are you just going to stand out there all day and complain?"

"Until you remove the food off your front porch, yes," she told him.

"Good to know," he stepped back and slammed the door in her face.

Hermione stood dumbfounded for several seconds, feeling her mouth hanging agape, before she bristled with an electric current of anger and thumped loudly against his door.

 _"No one's home,"_ came Charlie's voice from inside.

"Oh fine, fine, if you want to act like a little child, I guess you won't mind that I get rid of this dog's food dish!" Hermione bent down and stole the bowl away from the Corgi. It began to whine as if in distress. She stopped for a moment, looking back at the dog, then inwardly said, _The dog's too fat anyway. I'm doing it a favor._

She got halfway across the street before she heard Charlie's door open behind her. Hermione turned and waited for him to reach her.

"What d'you think you're doing?" His face was a mask of a building temper.

"Taking control of the situation," she shrugged. "I asked you to remove this bowl from your front door," she continued, holding up the object in point for him to observe, "and when you didn't, I found it easier to just do it myself."

"Don't you know it's a crime to steal? That's my property!"

"Yes, but the dog isn't."

"Adam needs to eat," he said with a forced calm.

"Adam? Who is that," she tossed back, feeling lines race across her forehead in puzzlement.

"Adam," he repeated, "the dog, to you."

"You actually named him? What on earth were you thinking?"

"You said you have a cat, right?"

"So?"

"What's the cat's name," he questioned.

"That's completely different," she responded hotly. "My cat belongs to me! This dog, Adam," she said with distaste, "isn't yours!"

By now, the Corgi had padded over to the pair, sitting to the side of Charlie. Its eyes were fixated on the food bowl Hermione held out of its reach, whimpering.

"Why are you being so difficult?! It's just a dog!"

"I already told you the dog upsets my cat!"

"And that's supposed to be my problem? Let your damned thing out in the backyard then!"

"I'll have you know that since I own my cat, I can let him out wherever I please."

"So what're you going to do? Let Adam starve to death?"

Hermione gazed over and saw that while Charlie's face was turning a ripe red, his sapphire blue eyes swam under a pleading nature. The Corgi whined once more.

Just as she opened her mouth to respond, a car horn suddenly blared at them. The sound alerted them that they were standing in the middle of the road, effectively blocking any vehicle that wanted to pass. Charlie grabbed her arm and dragged her off to the side.

"Come on," he nearly begged, "all I'm giving him is some food. No harm, no foul."

She let out a heavy sigh before thrusting the bowl back into his hands. Adam jumped up on Charlie's legs impatiently.

"After today, I don't want see him again," she pointed at the dog.

Without waiting for a reply, she retreated back across the way and into her home, locking the door behind her. Parting the curtains a bit, she saw Charlie lead Adam back onto his front porch where he placed his food dish down, letting the dog resume his meal. He patted it once on the head before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He chanced a look over at Hermione's place before he shook his head and went inside.


End file.
